


Swallowing Matches

by sleepypercy



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 30k of mostly porn, Also actual violence, Bottom Jensen, Dark Stuff, Implication of Violence, Jared is a precocious sociopath, M/M, Nothing explicit before 13, Rough Sex, Serial Killers, Sexual situations with minors, Toxic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepypercy/pseuds/sleepypercy
Summary: Jared's a budding serial killer and Jensen's the boy next door who sometimes babysits. They've always been obsessed with each other, and Jared's always been able to get Jensen to do anything he wants.The problem is, Jared gets jealous. And when Jensen hits high school, Jared's not the only one who notices how pretty the boy is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2017 SPN J2 BigBang](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/) Thanks so much to Wendy for beautifully running this challenge every year. And I owe so much thanks to my friends, cheerleaders, and betas [skeletncloset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexa_dean), [TheBoys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboys), and [Bad Bastion](http://thebadbastion.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Also, so much love to Emma, my artist. She made me some [wonderful art](http://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/450140.html) that you should check out!

“Pick one.”

The request sounds casual, tossed out like Jared’s asking Jensen to choose an outfit or a puppy or an ice cream flavor. Jensen, however, knows enough to be wary of the carefully neutral expression on Jared’s face, and he feels something drop low in his stomach, hard and grooved like a peach pit.

They’re on the second highest row of bleachers, high above the track field where soccer players are running laps and cheerleaders are practicing kicks and formations. It’s a perfect day; the sun glinting off of Jared’s pink, heart-shaped sunglasses and warm enough to threaten to multiply all the freckles scattering across Jensen’s nose. Jared’s got his lighter on him and he’s opening and closing the metal top to start and stop the tiny flame.

The tiny metal pings suddenly stop and Jared reaches over to squeeze Jensen’s knee with fingers that know what the inside of Jensen feels like. Jensen’s pointedly trying not to look, but Jared’s fingers pinch, hard, because there’s nothing Jared loves as much as making new bruises on Jensen. Jensen’s not entirely sure what choice he’s making, but he knows he doesn’t want to make it. But when Jared’s hand slides higher, Jensen sucks in a sharp breath, glancing up for a moment, eyes caught by a movement before he can help himself.

Dimples pop out in full force, expression so pleased and happy that Jensen almost ignores the ominous feeling sliding up his spine, ice-cold and sharp. Almost.

“Didn’t know you liked redheads,” Jared comments, glancing down to where the curvy cheerleader is spread on the ground, legs out and back bowed forward in a deep stretch.

Guilt churns deep in Jensen’s stomach and he slumps down. “Don’t,” he whispers.

Jared’s smile widens. “Don’t what?”

A flush spreads up Jensen’s face, and he shakes his head, unable to answer.

Amused, Jared pulls off his sunglasses and puts them on Jensen. He leans in close and Jensen’s heart starts pounding hard and fast. “Wait for me under the bleachers,” Jared says as his fingers go back to tracing circles around Jensen’s knee. “Want you to suck me off while you’re wearing these, staring up at me with pink heart eyes and spunk lipstick.”

Jensen would be lying if he said those words didn’t make a thrill zing up his spine.

Ten minutes later, he’s down on his knees under the bleachers, dirt and old burger wrappers underneath his knees while Jared uses his mouth hard, Jared’s fingers hooked in the corner of Jensen’s mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” Jared grunts out quietly as he empties down Jensen’s throat, fingers around his neck. “So fucking good for me.” His mouth quickly finds Jensen’s when he’s done, and they roll around the filthy cement, making out until Jared sits back against a metal column and lets Jensen suck him off again, nestling Jensen’s body between his thighs.

 

**~THEN~ 6, 3**

Jensen grew up next to Jared, their families intermingling since the day the Padaleckis moved in next door when Jared was just a toddler.

It was just Jared and his father, Mr. Padalecki had explained to Jensen’s mother after they’d chatted a few times from across their driveways. Jared’s mother had died shortly before they’d moved, a burglary gone wrong, and Jared wasn’t taking it very well. He hadn’t spoken since losing his mother, and he threw temper tantrums nearly every day.

Mr. Padalecki had hired a nanny to help out, although he was having trouble retaining help. Jared was uncontrollable and wild, didn’t give a damn about authority even at three years old, and had a tendency to wander off. More often than not, his current nanny would turn around to find the toddler missing, and after pillaging through every room in a panic, she’d finally run next door to find Jared in Jensen’s room, decorating Jensen’s blonde little head with sticks and wild dandelions.

Jensen was his pet, his project, his obsession from the beginning.

No amount of yelling or time-outs or gentle explanation could ever turn Jared repentant. The only thing that could ever pierce through his unfazed indifference was the threat of separating him from Jensen, which led the boy to shriek and rage until his face was red and angry tears were streaming down his face.

Eventually, one of the nannies learned to stop fighting it and let Jared wander over to Jensen’s house as often as he liked.

 

**~NOW~ 17, 14**

Jensen never really forgets about the choice he made, although Jared doesn’t say anything for weeks. Not until they’re sitting at the kitchen table together, homework in front of them while Jared’s housekeeper putters around them, juggling laundry and dinner. Jared’s dad is behind them in the living room, hockey game on TV.

Grinning, Jared slips a note over to Jensen, tucking the torn piece of paper underneath Jensen’s science textbook while Olivia sprays a lasagna pan behind them. He watches carefully while Jensen plucks it out, opening up the paper to find a crudely-drawn pencil sketch of a gigantic, erect penis. Jensen’s face heats up as he quickly shuts the note, tucking it in his pocket and looking behind him to make sure the neither Mr. Padalecki nor the housekeeper had seen.

Thankfully, she’s too busy mixing together tomato paste and herbs to notice Jensen’s sudden anxiety, and Jared’s dad has never given the boys too much interest anyway.

“Got a present for you,” Jared whispers, and Jensen swallows deeply, wondering if the image in his pocket is some kind of premonition. Smirking, Jared adds, “It’s upstairs. On my bed.”

They leave their school things on the table while Jared leads Jensen up the stairs, sure feet padding around wooden creaks that they’d both memorized years ago.

As soon as Jared shoves open the door, Jensen’s attention zeros in on a cheerleader outfit spread out on the bed, skirt fluffed out and crop top smoothed against the comforter. Jensen can’t breathe for a moment, memory bubbling to the surface, and he jerks his head towards Jared, wondering if this is some kind of a joke.

“Got it just for you,” Jared says, amusement in his eyes as he nods towards the blue-and-silver cheer outfit. Then, softer, “Try it on.”

“Why?” It slips out before Jensen thinks about it, and Jared quirks an eyebrow up, expression cool.

“Because I want you to.”

Hesitantly, Jensen starts to strip down, and Jared’s approving eyes on him keep him going as he peels off his shirt and pants. Somehow, Jared had even gotten a pair of spankies to go with the uniform, a blue-and-black pair of briefs with gold stripes across the sides. He slides the soft skirt up his thighs and pushes his arms through the thick straps of the top, he has to admit that the material feels nice. There’s a bare stretch of midriff from a cut-out part of the uniform, and he crosses his arms over his exposed mid-section.

“Don’t hide from me,” Jared chides, fingers cool across the curve of Jensen’s tummy while Jensen holds his breath and tries not to give in to the ticklish sensation. Pressing his body closer, Jared crowds Jensen until he falls back on the bed, skirt fluttering as Jensen bounces on the mattress. Jared climbs on top, slotting their mouths together, hard as ever, like he wants to tear a hole through Jensen and crawl inside. Jensen wants this - God, he’s wanted it for years - although he’s overwhelmed every time. Jared’s thumbs bruise polka dots into Jensen’s biceps and his teeth mark indents into Jensen’s neck. Part of Jensen imagines Jared tearing into his throat, and he almost wants that, imagining his blood, warm and fresh, dripping from the edges of Jared’s mouth.

When Jared’s hand creeps up Jensen’s skirt, rubbing hard against Jensen’s erection, Jensen throws his head back, breathing deep and staring sightlessly at the ceiling while mumbling Jared’s name.

“Think I could make you dirty your briefs before we get called down for dinner?” Jared gropes his fingers around the shape of Jensen’s cock through black cotton. Sliding back on the bed, Jared bends down to gets his mouth all over Jensen’s exposed stomach, sucking in skin and working hard to leave hickeys across the pale curve. “Love your belly,” Jared says around Jensen’s belly button. “So soft and smooth. Wanna rub my cock all over it, cover you in come, make you go to school wearing this, my spunk dried all over your stomach.”

At the moment, Jensen would agree to almost anything as long as Jared kept touching him. But suddenly Jared slips off the bed, teeth and dimples flashing at Jensen. “Not today, though.” He looks meaningfully at Jensen’s cock jutting up from underneath his skirt. Grinning, he walks back towards the door, obviously taking pleasure in Jensen’s discomfort. “Don’t be late to dinner,” he warns just before he closes the door.

Dark shame washes over Jensen as he reaches up the skirt and under his briefs, quickly jerking himself off, spread out on Jared’s bed and desperate as a dime bag slut as he whimpers and spills into his hand. Because Jared deserves it, Jensen wipes his hand clean on Jared’s bed, streaks of white spunk left near the top of the bed where Jared won’t be able to miss it.

**~THEN~ 10, 7**

When Jensen turned ten, Mr. Padalecki started officially asking him to babysit – Jared had already gone through more nannies and babysitters than Jensen could count, chasing them all off with tantrums and sadistic pranks, setting one poor woman’s hair on fire, making one after another quit when they all refused to let him see Jensen every minute of every day.

So Mr. Padalecki decided to stop trying to keep them apart, and he started paying Jensen for hanging out with his son.

Jared is three years his junior, although sometimes Jensen felt younger than the kid, especially when he walked into the house and Jared fixed him with an amused smirk, gold-and-green eyes sparkling and contemplative, like he knew that Jensen could never really stop him from doing whatever he wanted.

Shortly after getting hired, Jensen came over one day to find Jared watching a small pile of stuffed animals go up in flames, soaked in whatever accelerant Jared could find in the garage.

Jensen considers it a win since Jared also wanted to sacrifice the family’s pet guinea pig, and Jensen only just managed to get through to Jared how suspicious it would look if Mr. Gordo disappeared while they were alone in the house.

When the flames died down, Jared handed Jensen a shovel. Jensen didn’t even question it, just dug a hole to bury the charred remains in while Jared silently watched, fingertips singed with burns that looked like grey bruises.

It was only about a year later when Mr. Gordo’s bill came due. Jensen held the tiny body in his hands, golden fur covered by a towel. There were dots of blood soaked through the cotton, and Jensen very carefully ignored the dried red flakes underneath Jared’s fingernails.

They buried the little guy in the same spot as the charred toys, and that spot turned into something private and special between them, something that spurred a knowing look whenever their families were in the backyard, hands holding paper plates soaked with potato salad oil and bratwurst grease. Jared’s tiny dimples creased into his cheeks as he grinned at Jensen and looked at the mound of disturbed earth beneath the maple tree where a secret lay buried that only they knew about.

Jensen’s not sure why he never told anyone. He just knew that when Jared smiled at him like that, something dark and warm lighted him from the inside, making him forget about how isolated and lonely he felt, and he never wanted to give that up.

**~NOW~ 17, 14**

The chair is warm when Jensen lies back. He wonders how busy the shop’s been today, how long ago someone had sat in the same chair, skin exposed while a needle drove just under the surface.

Jared is excited beyond words. His eyes dart around the room, entranced by the metal-shine of tools. In his hands is a drawing that Jensen hasn’t been allowed to look at despite the fact that its contents are to be replicated on Jensen’s upper arm.

After checking his needles and other instruments, the tattoo artist takes the paper, quirking an eyebrow up at Jensen after unfolding it.

“You sure about this?”

“Yeah,” Jensen replies, not even looking at the man. “Do it.”

Jared beams and leans down to kiss Jensen quick and hard on the mouth. The guy doesn’t say anything – hadn’t said anything either about both boys being obviously underage, just took Jared’s payment and offered Jensen a chair.

The first prick of the needle makes Jensen wince, but the fuzzy edge of alcohol in his system dulls the sting a bit. It’s also not the first time he’s been stuck with needles. Not after Jared went through a phase in sixth grade.

They take a short break after the first hour, Jensen sucking in sharp sounds because his arm is really starting to throb. He’d expected Jared to get off on Jensen’s pain – because he always did – but Jared is being… gentle. He brushed Jensen’s hair back during the first half of it, murmuring soothing things about how well Jensen was doing, how fucking beautiful he looked like this, how much Jared wants to mark every inch of Jensen.

It’s unexpected, and Jensen’s first instinct is to reject the softness and jerk away. But the needle’s sharp prick helps to even it out, leveling Jensen enough that he just closes his eyes and lets the physical and emotional sensations mix together.

He waits until it’s done to look. Jared’s smirking at him while the tattoo artist goes to grab a mirror, and Jensen can feel his stomach start to somersault. He knows that look. It’s the look Jared wears whenever he gets it into his head to fuck with Jensen, to make Jensen do things knowing that the older boy will never say ‘no.’

When the tattoo guy comes back with a mirror and holds it up, it takes a moment for Jensen to finally turn his eyes and look.

Across his bicep is a pink ribbon bow – tied snug and thick just like cheerleaders wear in their hair – and a blue and black pom behind it, open and wide like a starburst. Jensen’s slightly horrified, and Jared grins at his gaped mouth.

Of course Jensen remembers the uniform. Jared had brought it over to Jensen’s house and hung it in his closet. That same week, the red-headed cheerleader went missing, posters up around town and police officers pulling out the girl’s friends and fellow cheerleaders during class to ask questions. Nobody knew where she went, nobody had seen her, and as far as Jensen knew, no trace of her had been found.

As soon as they’re out of the tattoo parlor, Jared drags Jensen into the alleyway behind it and shoves Jensen against the wall while biting up his neck.

“Drove me crazy watching you take it so good like that,” Jared slurs between his teeth, praising and happy, and Jensen can’t help drinking in that praise, letting it fill up the hollow part of his chest. “Letting me mark you all up. Taking it all for me. Fuck, fuck, so good.” His fingers prod into Jensen’s bandage until Jensen gives a little yelp that Jared swallows up. Jared’s fingers wander down, teasing the edge of Jensen’s jeans, and Jensen’s pulse quickens when Jared slips his hand down.

The first touch of Jared’s hand on his dick makes Jensen whimper – an embarrassing, high sound – and Jared suddenly falls to his knees, shoving Jensen’s jeans down into the wet, greasy asphalt.

“Oh god,” Jensen chokes out when Jared’s mouth surrounds his dick. His hands fly back, steadying himself against scraping brick, face tipped up to look at blurry stars above the dark alleyway. Jared’s large hands are wrapped around each of Jensen’s thighs, holding him in place while Jensen tries not to thrash. He’s so close, dick hard in Jared’s throat, orgasm on the precipice, when the side door opens and the guy whose handiwork is still fresh on Jensen’s arm walks out, pre-lit cigarette in hand.

He raises an eyebrow, expression neutral. Jared’s unconcerned, cheeks hollowed out to suck harder. Dirty, wet sounds echo around the alley, and the guy leans against the doorframe, watching and smoking. Jensen’s hands fly down to touch Jared’s head, fluttering nervously and trying to make the decision to either push Jared away and hide or finish what he’s so close to finishing. The decision is suddenly taken from him when he feels a spit-wet finger slipping beyond his cock. It rides the ridge underneath, teasing and testing, until it nudges right against his asshole. Jensen holds his breath, doesn’t know how to process this, dick already bursting, when Jared’s finger pushes inside the pucker about half a centimeter, just enough for Jensen to feel the slutty give of his own hole, just enough for Jensen to know that he wants more.

With a half-sob, half-grunt, Jensen comes hard, eyes squeezed shut until he sees oil-puddle rainbows swirling behind his eyes, and he feels Jared sucking down every last drop.

He’s on the ground, still panting, when he hears the back door clicking shut and opens his eyes to see Jared’s smirking face.

Jensen starts babbling about how he wants Jared inside, wants to feel Jared fucking him, wants everything, _pleasepleaseplease_. But he knows Jared won’t do it. It’s not the first time Jensen’s wanted Jared to fuck him, and it’s not the first time Jared has refused to do all but that.

**~THEN~ 8, 6**

For the first five years of his life, Jared spoke very little, just observed the world around him and picked up speech and reading patterns so quickly and efficiently that his teachers and parents had been dizzy with excitement. The school officials encouraged his parents to enroll him in specialty schools and accelerated programs, certain that they had a genius on their hands.

Jared, however, didn’t want any of that. He stubbornly refused to participate in any tests or exams to prove his intelligence, and since he was uncooperative in all attempts to convince him otherwise, he remained a firm underachiever in the Austin Public Schools District #15.

As soon as Jared learned to write his name, he practiced by writing on Jensen, first his arms then legs then straight across his face (his nanny at the time had scolded him for that, giving him a time out in his room until Jared literally kicked a hole through his door). For three months, there was barely a space on Jensen’s body that didn’t have Jared’s name on it.

Jensen wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he never fought Jared on it, not even when Jared insisted on pulling down Jensen’s shorts and messily scribbling it right across Jensen’s ass.

**~NOW~ 17, 14**

Jensen’s father has never been particularly interested in him. Jensen knows that it’s his fault, that he’s not aggressive or charismatic or social enough to earn the man’s respect and attention. He can see the criticism in his father’s eyes when he’s home long enough to ask Jensen about sports or friends, eyes hard and demanding and never satisfied. Jensen’s overheard his father complain to his mother, accusing her of not looking out for Jensen, for coddling him too much, for not instilling a deeper sense of competitiveness or drive.

Thankfully, the man is rarely home. He travels more than seems necessary, often crashing in hotel rooms if his meetings take him further than an hour away from home. Jensen prefers it, hating the knot in his stomach when he knows his dad is in the house, unsure if something will set him off and he’ll wake up to find black and purple blotches on his mother’s face again, sometimes cigarette burns on her arms. Jensen tries to console his mother the day after, although she’s usually too drunk and high and close to unconsciousness.

One the senior partners at Mr. Ackles’ company has a son who needs his dog walked and fed while he’s out of town, and, sensing an opportunity to get his foot in the door with the partners, Jensen’s father volunteers his own son for the job.

 

Jensen shows up at the man’s porch as scheduled, uneasy and slightly resentful. When the door opens, a large, tattooed man is holding back a barking and jumping Rottweiler by the collar, trying to get her to calm down while smiling over at Jensen.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man offers to Jensen, one large hand soothingly stroking down the dog’s head. “She just gets excited about new people. She’s really sweet, though, don’t let the bark fool you.” The dog strains against the man’s grip just enough to push a wet nose against Jensen’s wrist, and Jensen jumps at the cold sensation. The man chuckles. “You Jensen?”

“Yessir,” Jensen answers, reaching out a hand to rub down the side of the dog’s wiggling body.

“Good. I’m Jeff and this is Bisou. Let me show you where everything is.”

It takes a few minutes for Bisou to calm down; she insists on following just behind Jensen’s knees, bumping in the back of them whenever he stops walking. Jeff keeps laughing fondly, calling her an attention slut and warning Jensen that she’ll whine and beg for hours for pets no matter how much attention she gets.

Jeff insists on making Jensen lunch, throwing together a caprese salad and pan-grilled chicken and artichoke pizza that he’d had cooking before Jensen showed up. Jensen tries to decline, but Jeff gently nudges Jensen into a chair, placing a plate in front of him that smells too delicious for Jensen to reasonably turn down.

Around the kitchen walls are pictures of different landscapes: beaches, mountains, forests, all around the world. He catches Jensen looking and offers up stories about the Black Forest of Germany and how blue the water of Côte d'Azur really is.

“What about you, kid?” Jeff asks, smiling at Jensen and patting Bisou’s head. “Anywhere you wanna go?”

To be honest, Jensen’s never really thought of being anywhere but here. He’s quiet for a minute, thinking, while Jeff patiently sits back, chewing slowly and giving Jensen time.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever thought about going to specific places,” Jensen finally replies. “But I have wanted to go to things - I’ve always wanted to see a World Series game and see Kaleo perform live. Maybe see the ocean. Any ocean.”

“I knew you’d have a good answer,” Jeff answers with a grin. “You’re into the journey. I’m with you, kid, I like to wander. You end up in way more interesting places if you don’t make plans.” Jensen thinks he’s a bigger attention slut than Bisou, and although he berates himself for it, he can’t help feeling pleasure at this relative stranger’s approval.

Bisou comes over and lays her head down in Jensen’s lap, huffing and turning big liquid eyes up to Jensen until he tentatively reaches down to pet her head.

“She can smell a sucker,” Jeff says with a wry laugh. “Don’t let her push you around too much.”

“No sir,” Jensen replies, still petting her head.

Jeff finishes the tour after they put their plates in the dishwasher, showing Jensen where Bisou’s food and water dishes are, then follows it up with a tour of his house. It’s gigantic, even by their neighborhood’s standards, and either Jeff or his designer have exquisite taste.

When they wander upstairs, Jeff walks Jensen briefly through his bedroom, and Jensen lets his eyes roam across Jeff’s dresser. There are several pictures of him with what are obviously much younger men, his arm slung around their shoulders or mouth pressed against their cheeks.

Jensen tries to hide his blush, has no idea if he succeeds, but thankfully Jeff walks them through to the back porch, smiling at Jensen as he asks if he likes the view.

When they finally get back to the front door, Jeff claps his hand to Jensen’s shoulder and asks him if he still wants the job.

“Yeah. I - yeah. I do.”

“Great!”

Jeff need someone to walk Bisou every Thursday and more during extended business trips, so he and Jensen set up the feeding and walking schedule details before he goes.

 

**~THEN~ 10, 7**

Jensen overheard his mother one day on the phone talking to Jared’s current nanny about how Jared had cut off a little girl’s pigtail, and both women speculated over whether or not it means that Jared _likes_ the girl. Although apparently she had been a couple years older, in the fourth grade.

Two feelings immediately sparked in Jensen’s belly. The first made him roll his eyes, scoff at the archaic conclusion that secret crushes are the only things that spur little boys into bad behavior towards little girls.

The second feeling made Jensen feel more worried and sick, although he didn’t know why. But he was uneasy with the thought of Jared trying to impress a girl, even though it was natural that Jared should have other friends.

Jared got detention for a week, which Jensen learned about when the boy snuck into Jensen’s room and surprised him while he was doing his homework.

Jensen’s round belly was pressed against his bedcovers, math book spread out in front of him while he multiplied fractions in his spiral notebook. He wasn’t surprised when Jared walked into his room, although his latest nanny had been keeping a closer eye on Jared lately, so it had been a few days since Jensen had seen Jared.

Jared stood next to Jensen’s bed for a moment before climbing up on Jensen’s back and sitting in the dip of his lower back, shifting his bony hips until he found a comfortable position.

“M’not a horse,” Jensen declared mildly. Jared snorted and squeezed his thighs tight around Jensen’s hips, bucking himself hard against Jensen’s back as if to prove that Jensen was whatever Jared wanted him to be. The jutting shape of his six-year-old body hurt. It leaves bruises that Jensen’s mother will ask about later when his pajama top rides up, and which he’ll lie about and attribute to falling out of bed and hitting his dresser. He’ll examine them in the bathroom mirror later, shoulders rotated as far as they can turn as he fondly traces the faint blooms of purple and blue contusions.

“Would you let me ride you down the hallway?” Jared asked, voice dark and curious as he settled himself belly-down, heart pounding furnace-hot against Jensen’s bare back. He was a few years too old for a horsie ride, although Jensen wondered if Jared had ever been interested in something so juvenile as that even when he was young enough for it to be socially acceptable.

“Do you want to?” Jensen asked quietly, as much of an answer as anything, and he heard Jared’s satisfied laughter from behind his head.

“Not today,” Jared replied, and the pressure of him rocking back and forth, treating Jensen like some kind of human-shaped rocking horse, made a strange, hot feeling grow below Jensen’s belly. It was like a fever or a rash crawling inside his skin, and it made him hate those three years between them, the constant waiting for Jared to catch up.

“I cut off Kimberly Nile’s pigtail last week,” Jared said abruptly. It’s the first time Jensen had heard the victim’s name, and he sucked in a quick breath. “I saw what she did to you,” Jared said, leaning his belly down, pressing himself down harder. Jared crossed his arms on the back of Jensen’s head, a mild pressure. “I saw her stomp your lunch on the floor. I saw her friends say mean things to you.”

Jared and Jensen have different lunch periods, and Jensen would have wondered how Jared even saw that interaction, except he knew Jared often slipped out of class. Sometimes Jared would try to join Jensen for lunch, although the cafeteria monitors always found him.

“Where’d you get the scissors?” Jensen asked, because he knew the kind they keep in the classroom: dull, plastic things that can barely cut paper, much less hair.

“I stole it from the teacher’s desk,” Jared said proudly. “I was going to do more. I was going to cut off her feet for stomping your food. But she started screaming when I grabbed her hair. I pulled her shoe off and I was just starting to cut it when the teachers found me and pulled me off her. They took my scissors.”

“How much trouble did you get in?” Jensen asked.

“They gave me detention for a couple days,” Jared answered, rocking against Jensen’s back again. “I think they wanted to do more. But my dad talked to them. He was a little mad when we got home. He said I cost him a lot of money. But I go back to school tomorrow.”

“They’d kick you out if you’d hurt her more,” Jensen said quietly. “And then you’d be locked up and we couldn’t go to school together.”

Jared is quiet for a moment, and Jensen can hear his soft breathing just behind his head. “Ok. I won’t hurt her. But if she does it again…”

Jensen’s mother’s suddenly voice rings out from the kitchen, loud and questioning: “Jensen?”

“Yeah?” he answers, his voice raised loud enough to be heard.

“Is Jared with you?” she asks. “His father just called; he’s looking for him.”

Jensen didn’t answer, just held his breath and waited for Jared to give some kind of response. After a few seconds, Jared rolled off of Jensen’s back and called out, “I’m here, Mrs. Ackles. I’m going home.”

Despite the soreness left behind from Jared’s bony ass digging into his back, Jensen immediately missed the warm feel and pressure. Jared sat on the floor in front of him instead, grabbing Jensen’s math book and tossing it blindly into the corner. He then turned around, back to the bed frame, and grabbed Jensen’s hands, settling them in his long, soft hair in a silent demand for Jensen to stroke the chestnut strands. Jensen complied, had always loved the feel of Jared’s thick, beautiful hair between his fingers, and Jared leaned back and stayed an extra twenty minutes before finally heading home.

**~NOW~ 18, 15**

Jensen’s never really felt the urge to kill anyone. At least up until now.

Behind the school gym is a little niche in the wall, well-known for being the perfect place to make out. Jared and a dark-haired girl are tucked inside, wet mouths sliding against each other, fingers finding bare skin.

Jensen watches them and for the first time thinks about how satisfying it would be to stab a kitchen knife right between two slatted ribs and turn the handle. He imagines grabbing the girl by her long dark hair, jerking her head back so her mouth startles into a rose red-lipped gasp, and sliding a knife across her smooth, slim throat.

Of course Jared knows that Jensen’s watching. He’s always had a keen sense for when Jensen’s nearby, could probably find Jensen in a dark room with his eyes closed. He puts on a show just for Jensen, moving them to give the best view of Jared’s tongue in her mouth and his hands on her breasts. When Jared’s fingers slip under the band of the girl’s jeans, Jensen decides that he can’t be there anymore.

From the moment Jared started high school, Jensen had never left his side. The group that Jensen had hung out with while Jared was finishing up middle school had long since forgotten him, and Jensen hadn’t really been sad to see them go at the time.

Jensen wanders around for a few days until he stumbles across some baseball jocks on the field at lunch, practicing their swings and just hanging out. They’re friendly and when Jensen impresses them with a few home-run caliber hits, they take him to the coach and make him join the team. It would feel good if Jensen didn’t miss Jared like a cut-off limb, needing the boy near him at all times.

When he tells Jared about joining the team, the boy smirks and makes a comment about how wide Jensen’s bowlegs are gonna look in tight little baseball pants. Jared hangs out in the bleachers sometimes to watch during practice, but most of the time he leaves to do his own thing. It’s not any different, really, than when Jensen had hung out during the spring season while Jared had been at basketball practice, putting on his All-American Jock act.

Coach Jackson is the baseball sponsor, although he has the team call him CJ. He takes a special interest in Jensen, offering extra practice and generally going out of his way to make Jensen feel welcome. It feels nice, although Jensen still prefers when practice is over and Jared walks him home. But Jared isn’t always waiting for him, and sometimes he’s got a girl at his house. They change out every week, never the same one twice.

The first time Jared doesn’t show to walk him home, Jensen sighs and jogs home by himself, cutting across the creek and disappointedly walking into his house.

He’s finishing up some homework at his desk when he sees movement over the fence, in Jared’s backyard, and catches a glimpse of Jared walking a girl into the pool house. The windows are wide, and Jared’s got the curtains pulled back when they start making out.

Jensen doesn’t want to watch. But he can’t help it. They’re going pretty hot and heavy from the start, Jared pressing her small body in the couch, and Jensen tries not be jealous of how easily the girl fits under Jared, how perfectly matched they looked. When Jared peels off her clothes, Jensen still can’t look away, although his eyes are locked onto Jared.

There’s some definition starting to develop in his biceps, and Jensen swallows deep and wonders if maybe Jared’s been hitting the gym while Jensen’s been at practice. There are muscles that Jensen swears weren’t there last week.

She claws at Jared’s back while he fucks her, and Jensen seethes. He swears he’s gonna find her and snap her fingers like twigs for daring to mark up his boy.

He knows it’s all empty promises.

****

**~THEN~ 13, 11**

The marks Jared left were very different from the marks Jensen’s dad sometimes left.

Jensen doesn’t remember the first time he learned to stay out of the way when his dad got upset, but he does remember the first time he got in the middle of his father’s temper. Jensen was seven and his dad had been upset at him for leaving his baseball equipment and dirty sneakers in the livingroom. He’d been startled and scared when he’d heard his father calling his name up the stairs, his booming voice echoing like a gunshot up the stairs.

He’d run down the stairs immediately and had seen his mother bending down to pick up his things, but before she could touch anything, his dad had shoved her away, telling her disgustedly that “the boy needs to clean up his own damn mess.”

Immediately, Jensen had gathered up his things, intending to take it to his room, but it was already too slow for his dad. Before Jensen could leave, the man backhanded Jensen across the face, causing everything in his arms to scatter across the hardwood while Jensen fell to the floor, arms thrown over his face to block more attacks.

“This is not your fucking house,” his dad had huffed while stomping his baseball bat until it splintered into two pieces. “You should be damn grateful for me for paying for everything here, your mother as hell doesn’t contribute. Now get off the fucking floor and stop playing the victim. I don’t ever wanna see you disrespecting me this way again.”

Carefully, Jensen had picked up his broken things off the floor, head down as he held his breath and went up the stairs, alert for anything else his father might yell or throw at him.

He’d had a black eye by the next morning, which he sheepishly told Jared he’d gotten from getting hit with a baseball at practice. It wasn’t the first bruise he ended up having to explain to Jared, and the boy looked less and less convinced each time a new one appeared.

The bruising didn’t happen too often, however. Usually, Jensen’s dad reserved his temper for Jensen’s mom. Jared was always there for those, too. He’d climb in through Jensen’s window the minute he could hear the shouting from next door. Jensen was usually curled up in his bed, earbuds in, phone shuffling through Kaleo. Jared would sit next to Jensen on his bed, arm around him until the shouting finally died down.

“I’m gonna kill him one day,” Jared would sometimes promise, glaring towards the door. “One day, Jensen. Then I’ll take care of you.”

 

**~THEN~ 15, 13**

Jared burns things that he’s finished with.

Just before entering middle school, Jared took all his clothes and threw them into his backyard firepit. Ripped jeans, frayed plaid shirts, t-shirts with mildly obscene images that skated the line of the school dress code. Everything was thrown into the metal cage, doused in propane, and set ablaze.

His dad hadn’t been happy when he found out, but he hadn’t punished Jared for it. He just handed Jared his credit card, mildly commenting that if Jared had wanted a new wardrobe he could have just said so. Jared had gone for a mixture of preppy and casually stylish, blending in just the right amount to fit in and social climb. He transitioned into dimpling grins and easy laughter. Went from antisocial loner to popular, witty jock so fast that Jensen wondered why no one else seems worried about the sudden change in personality.

Jared became more involved in school. He won the lead in the school play, joined basketball, ran for junior high student council. He got old enough that his father generally trusted the boy to watch himself, although Jensen still stopped by from time to time.

One of the last times Jensen officially babysat occurs when Mr. Padalecki stayed out extra late on New Year’s Eve. Jared was thirteen now, capable of watching himself, but his dad wasn’t sure if he’d be back before morning and he just wanted someone to keep Jared company overnight. He offered Jensen three times his usual rate, and although he tried to refuse, Mr. Padalecki shoves five 20s into his hands, telling him to order pizza and keep whatever’s left.

They ended up gorging themselves on pizza and soda while marathoning Marvel movies (Jensen wasn’t quite ready to admit out loud his fascination with Chris Hemsworth’s hands and jawline, although he suspected his mother already knew).

It was an hour to midnight when Jensen saw a contemplative look stir over Jared’s face as his eyes kept cutting to and from Jensen. It made some paradoxical mixture of fear and excitement wash prickling heat over his skin, like Jared’s gaze was a physical touch, and he tried not to squirm and give away that nervous energy.

Soon enough, Jared seemed to make up his mind and turned to place a hand over Jensen’s arm.

“Wanna play a game?” he asked in a low voice. Jensen was pretty sure they weren’t talking about something they could put in an Xbox.

He nodded, not trusting his voice to stay even at the moment. Jared flashed a hungry grin that Jensen was fairly certain only he had ever seen, and left, going into the garage then the kitchen.

He came back with a chair and some rope, and Jensen’s green eyes grew wary and uncertain.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Jared didn’t answer, but he placed the chair in the middle of the room, a small smile on his face. Jensen let Jared grab his hand and lead him over to sit down. He didn’t trust Jared. Never has. But that didn’t stop him from doing whatever the boy wants.

Jared’s dimples pop out as he grinned, obviously pleased with Jensen’s easy compliance, and he squeezed Jensen’s hand warmly before letting go to pick up the thin cords.

Something inside Jensen wanted to burst. His hands twitched anxiously, whole body filled with some new anticipation.

“Gonna practice my knots,” Jared declared, looping the rope around Jensen’s back, twisting it up his thighs, crossing patterns against skin and muscle. The ropes were tight and secure, and Jensen wondered where Jared learned to tie knots like these. He subtly tested his strength against their hold, finding them impossibly strong, and a strange, vague thrill ran up his spine.

Jared ran his hands across the ropes, nudged a finger underneath the tight confinement and followed the loops around Jensen’s legs and across his hips. Jared’s hands were big, spanning across most of Jensen’s thigh and could probably more than comfortably circle his wrist. Jensen was certain it meant Jared was going to tower over him one day, and he was also positive that his fascination with Chris Hemsworth’s hands stemmed from how thoroughly they reminded him of Jared’s.

After Jared finished following all the pathways that were burning red prints into Jensen’s skin, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the buck knife that he almost always kept somewhere on him. It was a present from Jensen for his tenth birthday, stolen because Jensen was too afraid that he wouldn’t be allowed to buy it. After unwrapping the paper around it, Jared had traced the wolf print on the handle, eyes shining with approval that makes Jensen’s chest go tight.

Jensen had no idea what Jared wanted to do with that knife now, and the distinct sensation of fear fluttered in his stomach. He’d never made the mistake of underestimating Jared, had never been fooled by the mask Jared wears for everyone else, and while Jensen could flirt with the idea of pain, there are some things that can’t be taken back.

For the first time in years, he thought about what’s buried underneath the maple tree. He remembered the first one – the sharp smell of charred synthetic fibers underneath a mixture of lighter fluid and alcohol, popping snaps of blue blazing up like Jared had thrown salt on the pyre. It had all been dark ashes when they’d placed the dead Guinea pig on top, and Jensen wondered how far along the tiny animal’s body has decomposed by now. Jensen hadn’t had to do any clean-up duty since, but he was certain that Mr. Gordo and his insentient friends weren’t Jared’s only victims.

Jared used the knife to find Jensen’s belly button, dipping it down his stomach until it finally indented. His face was thoughtful, calculating, before he pulled a section of shirt away from Jensen’s body and slashed a tear into it. He kept going, cutting off Jensen’s sleeves, ripping down the collar, poking the end into the seams and feeling them burst as he tore them open. Jensen’s shirt ended up on the floor in pieces, and he shivered at the cold air against naked skin, the winter cold making his nipples pebble and arms fill with goose bumps. But Jared was careful; he didn’t leave so much as a scratch.

He skated his knife carefully across Jensen’s exposed chest, eyes roving, chewing his lower lip in thought. Finally, he pressed the button on the side of the knife that unlocks the blade and folded it back into itself, tossed it on the floor and slid into Jensen’s lap.

“Jensen?” he asked, moving his arms behind Jensen’s neck, tipping their foreheads together. “Can you keep a secret?” Jared’s arms tightened and the question rattled down Jensen’s spine like a pebble tossed down a rain gutter.

“Yes,” he replied, his cheeks flushing because he knew what kind of picture he made; a sixteen-year-old pinned in place by some kid just barely in his teens, letting him tie him up, going dizzy and reckless over what he was willing to let this boy do to him. It embarrassed Jensen, just how much he loved it all.

“Good.” Jared nodded, his hair sweeping across Jensen’s forehead. “That’s really good, Jen. You gonna stick around? Stay forever? I need you to. I need you stay and keep all my secrets.”

If Jensen’s hands were free, he’d rub them over Jared’s back in wide circles, just the way Jared liked him to do when they’re watching TV together. But as it was, he could only nod a little and answer, “M’not going anywhere, Jared.”

Jared’s chameleon eyes were dark blue in the low light with bits of copper flashing from the glow of the TV, and they glanced down at Jensen’s lips as Jared says “I know you’re not,” and kissed him.

It was brief and subdued, but it was the best thing that ever happened to Jensen. He strained against the ropes, almost tearing up with frustration because all he wanted to do was get his goddamn hands on this perfect boy in his lap. Jared moved his mouth to Jared’s neck, locking his mouth and teeth on a meaty piece of flesh. Jensen wondered how long he’d have to hide in his room until the resulting bruise faded.

“You’re mine,” Jared whispered fiercely against Jensen’s cheeks then bit the sentiment into Jensen’s jaw. “Mine. I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you ever leave. Tell me that you’re mine, Jensen.”

Jensen tilted his chin up as Jared kept biting and kissing and sucking across his neck, and gasped up at the ceiling, “Yeah. Yours. I’m yours, Jared.”

He could feel the smile against his skin, heard the hum of satisfaction before Jared pulled away then turned so his back was against Jensen’s chest. Jared settled in with a long sigh, leaning back and letting his head fall next to Jensen’s. When the end credits started rolling ten minutes later, Jared got up to grab the remote, scrolling through all the available movies until he settled on _Cabin in the Woods_. He laughed and planted a kiss on Jensen’s cheek like he knew about Jensen’s crush on Chris Hemsworth, maybe even knew why, and found it amusing.

He didn’t move from Jensen’s lap for the rest of the movie, which meant Jensen’s legs were sore and tingling by the time Jared decided to go to bed. He dick also hurt, which was completely Jared’s fault – he kept rolling his hips in Jensen’s lap in teasing little movements that made Jensen aroused and hard, although the little shit hadn’t put nearly enough pressure on him to get him off. Not to mention that the ropes were cutting off some of his blood flow. It all combined into something grossly uncomfortable, and Jensen hoped he didn’t have to stay this way for much longer.

After Jared was in his pajamas, teeth brushed, face washed, he came out and kissed Jensen again, thoughtful and slow, like he was cataloging the process. When he was finished, he pulled back, let a hand fall to Jensen’s crotch and squeezed once, fingers warm against the half-hard press of Jensen’s erection.

“Gonna keep you in these ropes all night,” Jared said with a smile. “Wanna see all those pretty marks buried deep in your skin by morning. So be a good boy for me, ‘kay?”

“Your dad...” Jensen started to say until Jared laughed and leaned in to bite Jensen’s lower lip, tugging it and letting the pink muscle stretch out before it slipped out from between his front teeth.

“Is probably getting pussy right now,” Jared replied. “There’s no way he’s not holed up in some hotel right now dick-deep in some slutty drunk college girl or three. He won’t be back before tomorrow afternoon.”

Jared was probably right, but Jensen couldn’t help but mistrust that laughing glint in his eyes, wondering if Jared wanted his dad to catch Jensen like this. He thought that if he worked at it, he could get loose, maybe break the chair if he needed to. But Jensen wasn’t going to try. He was going to stay. Be a good boy. Because Jared asked him to.

It proved, however, impossible. The ropes were chaffing, and Jensen could feel his veins pulsating with every heartbeat, nerves starting to go numb. He’d also had to pee before the movie even ended, and he made it 45 minutes before he couldn’t hold back anymore. The sound and smell of urine hitting the floor was strong, and Jensen was ashamed but couldn’t stop.

Jared finally came out another fifteen minutes later, hall light flicking on as he padded out in his boxers.

“You’re too fuckin’ loud,” Jared said with sleepy eyes. “Can’t sleep with all your squeaking.” With a quick flick of his wrist, he pulled out his knife, jerked it up through the ropes until they fell to the floor in lifeless, snake-shaped coils. Jared’s tired face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw the deep, chafed grooves cut into Jensen’s skin. Jared made Jensen remove his wet pants and followed the rutted, scarlet skin roadmaps with exploring fingers until Jensen was shaking and needy and could barely walk straight when Jared pulled him into his bathroom.

The spray of the shower hurt at first, nerves still tingling. Jared pulled off his boxers as he joined Jensen under the spray, soaping up Jensen’s skin, hands everywhere. Jensen started whining softly.

“Touch me, please touch me,” he begged softly, swallowing back the horrible feeling in his stomach because his knew this was wrong, has always been wrong, and Jared was barely in his teens right now. Jared smirked as he kept soaping Jensen up then reached down, palm out as he smacked Jensen’s dick twice – hard – and Jensen gave a high-pitched whine, tears in his eyes because it hurt, but it was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life.

“You’re a freak, Ackles.” Jared’s voice was mean, but Jensen knew he loved it. Jared didn’t touch Jensen’s dick again, even though Jensen’s pretty sure it would have taken just one good hit or stroke to get him off. Instead, he toweled Jensen off and took them to bed.

He had Jensen slip in beside him in his twin-sized bed with superhero sheets, tucking himself against Jensen’s chest, thigh painfully jutted into Jensen’s erection and fingers gripped tight in the hoodie Jared had given him to sleep in since he’d cut up Jensen’s shirt.

Thankfully, Jensen woke up before Jared’s dad got home. He called in the morning, just as Jared predicted, to tell Jensen that he had decided to stay in the city overnight and to thank him for keeping an eye on his son. Jensen assured him that it was no problem, and after gathering his things (including his piss-soaked pants), he went out the door before Jared could think of a reason to stop him.

Jensen jerked off in his room the moment he got home, door carefully locked as he bit into his hand to keep his moans muffled and his face dipped into the neck of the sweatshirt he was wearing that still smelled like Jared. Mental images of dimples and hazel eyes and knives held inside large hands flashed through his mind when he spilled wet and hot all over himself.

**~NOW~ 18, 15**

There’ve been less girls lately, and Jensen wonders if Jared’s already gone through most of their high school’s female population. During an assembly, he overhears a couple girls talking about Jared, the small group huddled in the back of the auditorium, completely ignoring the spirit week theatrics.

“He’s a fucking prick,” the first girl states. “Really mean. He shoved me down on the bed, fucked me from behind.”

“Hard, though, right?” the second one asks, smirking languidly. “He’s got a good cock. Best fuck I’ve ever had.”

“Did he burn you though? After?”

The second one scoffs and nods. “Yeah. Douche move. I’ve heard he does it to everyone. He ran his lighter under my arm. Didn’t leave a mark, but hurt like hell. Where’d he burn you?”

“My foot.” The first girl sounds pissed. “I can take a hint, I wasn’t expecting us to get married or anything. I was just about to leave.”

Smirking, Jensen tunes them out after that, attention finally going to the front of the stage where Jared is up with the rest of the basketball team, getting recognized for coming second in state. Jensen remembers that game. He’d blown Jared in the corner of the bus afterwards, knees pressed into the dirty floor and trying to be quiet enough not to alert the coaches.

**~THEN~ 16, 13**

“Aww, are you babysitting your little brother?”

Jensen fumbled, not sure how to reply, although could see Jared fuming next to him. The kid still had a baby face, all pink cheeks and soft hair falling into bright hazel eyes. Anyone looking at him would mistake him for a sweet child. Of course, Jensen knew better. He saw the way Jared’s fists clenched, and for a second, he actually thought the boy was going to reach across the gas station counter and strangle the well-intentioned-but-nosy attendant.

It didn’t help that this wasn’t the first time someone had made the assumption, although it only reminded them both how Jensen had shot up this past summer, stretching another half a foot up until he towered helplessly over Jared.

When Jared took a step forward, Jensen put a hand on his shoulder, although he didn’t think he could actually stop Jared from doing anything. Jared’s shoulders rose as he took a deep breath, huffing it out angrily before he turned away and stomped out the door.

“No, ma’am,” Jensen finally replied, taking his change and the bag of gummy bears then leaving before the woman could say anything more.

“Fucking stand up straight,” Jared growled at Jensen when he was outside. “Don’t patronize me.”

They had planned on playing Mario Kart when they got back, but when they reached their houses, Jared grabbed the bag of gummy bears and ran to his own house, slamming the door loudly.

He refused to see Jensen for three months.

It felt like a punishment, like Jared blamed Jensen for being bigger and older, when it really just made Jensen miserable every day. Jared would answer his texts once in a while, although it was all cursory and vague. He said he wasn’t mad at Jensen, he said he just didn’t feel like hanging out right now, and he told Jensen to stop bothering him, he’s _fine_.

Jensen started having mini panic attacks at school. He’d excuse him from the middle of class and then either shut himself in a bathroom stall or drive home and curl up inside his bed. He had no idea what to do with himself, wondering if this was it for good, if Jared had finally realized he didn’t really need Jensen, if their futures weren’t as intertwined as Jensen had always assumed. His chest tightened when he thought of Jared leaving him for good, weight pressing on his ribs like a boulder had been rolled on top of him.

Despite being neighbors, Jared found ways to avoid him. Changed his route to school, stopped swimming in his pool, pretended not to see Jensen whenever they were actually outside at the same time.

After a couple months, Jensen ended up outside the front door, hand sore from knocking and cell phone tossed uselessly to the side. He was hyperventilating and shaking, and he wasn’t even sure if he was crying or not, he couldn’t feel his face.

Jensen had no idea how long he’d been sitting on the porch when Mr. Padalecki came home.

“What are you doing here, son?” the man asked, leaning down to get a better look at Jensen.

Jensen’s forehead was pressed to his knees, and he just shook his head. His throat was so tight, he wasn’t even sure he could speak if he tried.

He heard a soft sigh and then the rustle of Mr. Padalecki crouching in front of him. A warm pressure started rubbing at his shoulders soothingly.

“Hey. Jared’s just as miserable as you are. I know you probably can’t tell, Jensen, but he is. This won’t last forever.”

Without raising his head, Jensen tried to gulp down enough air to calm down. He was getting lightheaded from inhaling so much carbon dioxide from between his knees, and he tried to breathe more calmly, get back in control.

“You sure?” he managed to whisper out hoarsely.

“The boy’s about to break,” Mr. Padalecki reassured him. “He’s got a week left, maybe two.”

Miserably, Jensen just nodded. With a soft pat, Mr. Padalecki stood up and left Jensen there as he went inside.

Two weeks was really five. Jared snuck in Jensen’s window while he was sleeping and slipped under his covers, biting at Jensen’s shoulder until Jensen woke up and almost wept from relief. There was no explanation, no apology. Jared did, however, nuzzle into Jensen’s bed almost every night after that for months, mouth and teeth leaving bruising imprints that Jensen liked to think of as claiming marks, like Jared was reassuring him that it wouldn’t happen again.

**~NOW~ 18, 15**

Jensen loves being on the field, being part of a team. He likes it better when Jared’s watching, although it’s not too often. When Jared’s there, he’ll grab Jensen after practice and make out with him behind the storage shed, grinding against the metal sheet paneling. Jared loves it when Jensen’s sweaty and red-faced, loves licking up Jensen’s neck and chest between bites.

Jared’s not here today, though, and Jensen tries not to think about what Jared might be doing at home and whether or not he’s in his pool house. Although there’s a chance he’s in the weight room instead, hitting the weights like he’s been doing obsessively for months.

When Jensen’s baseball practice finishes up, Coach Jackson tells the team to clean up and hit the locker room. He pulls Jensen aside, which he does at least once a week, to have a chat.

“Looking good!” he tells Jensen as they walk into his office. “You been practicing your stance like I taught you last week?”

“Yes sir,” Jensen answers, pleased that the coach had noticed.

“You know you’re more than welcome to call me CJ,” the coach gently prods.

Ducking his head, Jensen nods faintly. “I know.”

“But you won’t,” Coach Jackson states with a wry grin. “That’s okay, Ackles. You’ve got old school manners. Not a bad thing.”

There’s a beat of silence before the coach continues, “I’ve been looking into some sports therapy college programs since you said you were interested. I’ve taken a few classes, and I’m more than happy to help you out.”

“Really?” Jensen blinks, eyes going wide, unused to people looking out for him who aren’t Jared. “That’s… awesome. Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Great. You wanna hop onto the table so I can show you?”

“Show me where?” Jensen glances where the coach has motioned and sees a raised, vinyl-covered table in the adjoining room to his office. Jensen hesitates for a minute, but when the coach walks over, he follows and climbs on.

“There. I just wanna show you some basics,” Coach Jackson assures him. “Core sports massage therapy that every person should know. Just enough to make your college applications shine.”

Jensen is apprehensive, but the coach is already grabbing a bottle of lotion and motions for Jensen to lie back.

“You gotta take your shirt off, too,” the coach directs as he warms the lotion between his hands. “You can leave your shorts on, just hike them up a bit.”

Jensen does as he’s asked and lies back. The coach’s hands are warm when he reaches down to rub Jensen’s quads between them, hands moving up and down.

“This is called effleurage, it’s to warm up the muscles, get the blood flowing,” he explains. “I like to do this for a couple minutes on each body part, loosen it up.”

Jensen nods faintly, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he should try to hop off, thank the coach for his time, and leave. But he’s never been good at saying ‘no,’ and, besides that, he coach hasn’t done anything wrong. Mostly, he’s worried about what Jared would think.

The slow, steady pressure feels good, Jensen has to admit after a few minutes. He can feel his muscles start to loosen, warming up between the man’s strong hands.

“Feeling better?” Coach asks after a few minutes, and Jensen nods, eyes closed. “Good. The second step is petrissage, which is kneading and rolling the muscle.” His hands squeeze a bit tighter, working the muscles, and Jensen holds his breath when he feels the coach’s hands move a bit higher inside his thigh, working a few circles that brush, just lightly, against Jensen’s groin.

A protest starts to form inside his throat, but before he can get it out, Coach Jackson’s already moved down the legs, starting on the hamstrings next, cheerfully still explaining what he’s doing.

The coach stays away from Jensen’s groin after that, and Jensen sighs in relief, wondering if he’s being paranoid and overreacting. Coach Jackson has him flip over onto his stomach after that so he can get to Jensen’s back, and Jensen melts into the steady touch, almost falling asleep on the table.

Towards the end, Coach Jackson squeezes his hands around Jensen’s hips, kneading and pushing while Jensen breathes contentedly. He almost doesn’t realize when the man’s hands are on his ass, following the shape with his fingers, palm squeezing a bit before he moves back and announces, “Nice, huh? The best part of sports therapy is being able to make people feel good, especially after a long practice. Go ahead and jump down, Jensen, I’ll see you next practice.”

Mutely, Jensen hops down, grabbing his backpack and unable to answer when Coach Jackson says “goodbye,” as Jensen walks out the door. During the walk home, he tries to sort out how he feels, what happened. But by the time he reaches his door, he’s completely uncertain and decides to let it go. It probably wasn’t a big deal.

Of course, Jared’s in the pool house again. Jensen wonders if he timed it perfectly with Jensen’s practice, knowing, as usual, when Jensen would get home.

The girl is enthusiastic, climbing up Jared and wrapping every part of herself around him. Irritated, Jensen tries to stop watching but he _can’t_. He can’t tears his eyes away from the window, angry that he can’t be the slutty thing in Jared’s lap, certain that he could out-do any girl that’s Jared’s ever been with.

Jared shoves her back hard before sinking his mouth around her tits. She jumps, like he’d bit her, and smacks him once but doesn’t stop.

In the top of Jensen’s dresser drawer is a dildo, carefully wrapped in a towel and shoved inconspicuously underneath socks and underwear. Jensen grabs it now, propping a chair in front of the window, kicking off his underwear, and spreading himself wide open so he can slip the lubed-up fake cock up his ass.

He can hear himself whimper as he pushes it in and feels the tip of the silicone reach deep, brush against the spongy gland of his prostate. He starts whispering Jared’s name, alternating between throwing his head back and squinting his eyes tight and panting against the window sill, trying to get a good view of the way Jared’s hands are clamped around the girl’s arms, the way his hips piston in and out.

God, he knows he’d be so good for Jared. If Jared needs him to be a girl, he’d do his best, roll over, let Jared take him from behind, wear a skirt, paint his lips, whatever the boy wanted just so he could feel Jared inside. He practices poses on the bed sometimes, trying to accentuate curves, trying to look feminine. He imagines Jared over him now, one hand on his throat and fingers pulling aside pink lace so he can push his dick inside.

A few minutes later he comes hard with a hurt cry, one hand still fucking himself with the dildo and the other hand wrapped around his cock, jacking it while come spills over his fist and drips down his thighs.

He watches Jared get up and kick the girl out, shrugging at whatever she says, before he walks over to the main house’s back porch to go inside. Hand paused on the door handle, Jared turns to Jensen’s window, smirks, and gives him a half-wave before stepping inside the house.

God, Jensen hates him.


	2. Chapter 2

****

**~THEN~ 16, 14**

“Let me see it,” Jared said eagerly, sitting on Jensen’s lap.

He pawed at Jensen’s shirt collar, stretching it out so he could see the hickeys all along Jensen’s collarbone. It was getting ridiculous, and Jensen was worried he’d have to start wearing turtlenecks everyday if Jared kept this up. Not that he’d stop the boy. It was sweet tortured being pinned down like this, Jared warm on Jensen’s lap, Jared’s mouth against Jensen’s neck and chest. Sometimes Jared slipped a hand under Jensen’s shirt to pinch at his nipples, chuckling against Jensen’s skin every time Jensen yelped.

There was no finesse to the way he did it – it was less about getting Jensen off and more about making Jensen wince in pain. But Jensen got off on it anyway. The warm feel of Jared pinning him down was already good, and Jensen liked the sharp ache in his nipples as Jared pinched and played with them.

The moment Jensen turned sixteen, he couldn’t stop daydreaming about Jared’s cock up his ass. It’s all he could think about, distracting him from classes, making him miss fly balls that come his way on the baseball field.

They’d been at different schools for a couple years and Jensen hated it. He missed Jared, didn’t know what to do with himself without him. It’s why he joined the baseball team, trying to find something to fill up all that empty space and time, maybe even get out some of that anxious energy.

The spring before Jared finally joined Jensen in high school, Jared wouldn’t stop marking Jensen up in every way. His nipples were sore all the time from overuse, and his body looked like he’d been in a car accident, purple-and-blue bruises bloomed everywhere like an old graveyard.

“ _Jared_ ,” Jensen whined out. Jared had just thrown down the xbox controller so he could better focus on pinking up Jensen’s nipples. Jensen could feel his dick straining against his zipper, pressing into Jared’s thigh.

“ _Jensen_ ,” Jared teased back, exaggerated whining. “What? Do you want something?”

“Fucking just… fuck,” Jensen hoarsely replied, so frustrated. He could feel tears start to prick the edges of his eye, he just _wanted_ so bad, wanted this boy in his lap, wanted Jared to do filthy things to him, wanted to be pinned down, wanted to be used until he ached.

“Wanna know what I dreamed about last night?” Jared asked abruptly, hand running down Jensen’s stomach. His eyes were teasing.

“Y-yeah,” Jensen shook out. He was so goddamn hard right now, and everything hurt.

“You, on your knees,” Jared continued, his hand rubbing circles around Jensen's’ belly button. “So grateful to have a cock down your throat, eyes half-lidded, enjoying every second you got to taste my dick.”

Jensen’s mouth started watering, although he tried not to get too excited.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day.” Jared slipped off Jensen’s lap to settle in next to him. “I wonder if you’re a natural. You look like a born slut. But I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you are, Jensen.”

It made his skin flush and burn, but Jensen’s always known what he was. “I’m your fucking slut,” Jensen dutifully answered, closing his eyes for a minute and revelling in how good that felt. Jared started nudging Jensen to the ground, pushing at him until Jensen settled between Jared’s thighs and gulped Jared’s dick down.

It was his first time, but Jensen had watched thousands of hours of videos, imagined this happening countless times. It was still messy – Jensen couldn’t help it, spit drooling out the sides of his mouth, and when Jared started pumping in, they both lost all coordination. But Jared still came in the end, grunting while Jensen suckled him until Jared shoved his head away.

Jensen savored the taste, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth and feeling deliciously slutty as he swallowed it down. He felt even better when Jared dragged Jensen up onto the couch, leaning against him as he told him to stick his hand down his pants.

“Fuck your own hand, baby,” Jared whispered, voice low and dark. “Come on, I fucking love you when you’re dirty. Hump your hand, baby, I know how hungry you are for dick, how much you wanna spread your legs and have someone fill up that ass.”

Jensen fell apart shortly after that, tears running out the sides of his eyes when he finally spilled over his hand. When Jared reached down to touch Jensen’s dick, Jensen made a high pitched sound, swore he almost came again when Jared scooped up the warm come on his fingers then slipped the digits inside Jensen’s mouth, eyes bright and approving when Jensen weakly sucked his own come off.

“Beautiful,” Jared stated. Jensen closed his eyes, feeling warm and wanted and more content than he’d ever been in his sixteen-year-old life.

**~NOW~ 18, 15**

Tactile affection has always been important to Jensen. It’s probably why he doesn’t protest right away when the coach continues the massage sessions, spread out just enough so Jensen doesn’t know when they’ll happen. It keeps his anxious during practice, wondering just how daring the coach is going to get this time.

Jensen thinks about telling the coach to stop. He’s ashamed, however, of how his dick gets hard every time they start and how he likes being wanted like this – how the coach is willing to risk his job and possibly jail time just for the chance to touch Jensen. Sometimes Jensen daydreams during practice, wondering what it would feel like if the coach pinned him down by the back of the neck and made Jensen take his dick in whatever hole he wanted.

Of course, he’d rather it be Jared. But Jared still refuses to fuck him properly, no matter how many times Jensen begs him. Just yesterday, Jensen had been spread out on his own bed, cheerleader outfit on, skirt rucked up around his hips. He’d flipped over onto his belly, knees tucked underneath himself. Jared was standing behind him, cock hard and pointed up, watching Jensen with his ass in the air and face muffled into the mattress, begging Jared to just please, **please** , _please_ stick his cock inside.

Jared had watched interestedly for a moment, tugging at his cock, but ultimately ordered Jensen to turn around and flip onto his back, head hanging off the side.

Frustrated, Jensen did so, trying to be content with Jared roughly fucking down his throat. But it was never quite enough.

Despite being anxious about his after-practice activities, Jensen still enjoys being on the team. The guys appreciate his arm and speed, and they look out for him when Jared’s not around. Which is too often lately. Jensen feels the absence like a hole in his chest, suddenly uncertain of their future together, wondering if Jared actually got tired of him, if he’s just going to stop showing up one day. The thought makes Jensen panic and he has to pause and bend down to catch his breath, trying to breathe through the tightness in his chest.

His teammates immediately tell him to take a water break and go sit on the sidelines, which Jensen does gratefully until he can breathe again. He manages to push those thoughts down even further down, throwing himself back into practice for the second half, focusing on getting through this moment.

When practice wraps up, everyone jogs off the field, a few guys slapping Jensen’s ass and congratulating him on that spectacular hit he’d made during the last part of batting practice.

The coach drags him back to his office, and by now, Jensen knows what to do. He strips down to his underwear, belly-up on the massage table while the coach continues with the pretense that this is for educational purposes.

Jensen wonders if Coach Jackson has done this before or if he’s the first.

Before the couch even touches him, Jensen’s half hard, and he feels his face heat up in shame. Jared’s been fucking more girls in the pool house lately and fucking Jensen’s face less. He can feel his heart break, brittle and dry like twigs, snapping with every rejection. He wishes he could be a girl, be whatever Jared wanted, whatever Jared would actually fuck. He’s wondered more than once if Jared got him that cheerleading outfit just to pretend he’s a girl. If the only way Jared can get hard is by imagining that Jensen doesn’t have a dick.

He’s also starting to wonder if he’s getting too tall, too old for Jared to pretend as much anymore. If that’s why Jared’s pulling away.

Coach Jackson’s hands are kneading higher up Jensen’s thighs, sliding inside the ridge of hipbone, stopping just shy of Jensen’s erection.

“It’s ok if this happens,” the coach says, the first time he’s ever acknowledged Jensen being hard. “It’s not uncommon. Especially in a boy your age.”

His hands brush the edge of Jensen’s dick, teasingly, and Jensen goes from comfortably warm to fully hard in two seconds, throbbing pleasure-pain poking up the front of his briefs.

“Turn over, sweet boy,” Coach Jackson gently requests, hands on Jensen’s torso to help him flip. Then, almost a whisper, “Let me see that beautiful ass.”

Jensen makes a choked sound, nervous and thrilled as the coach sheds all pretense, groping Jensen as he flips onto his belly.

“There you go,” the coach purrs, sliding his hands under the band of Jensen’s briefs and palming his ass. “Come on, it’s ok. I know how much you want to get off. I know what you are, what you need. I’ve heard the other boys talking about you.” His hands push harder against Jensen’s ass, making him rock against the table, and Jensen gasps at the friction it puts on his cock.

“Such a pretty little twink slut,” Coach Jackson says reverently. Something warm and wanted glows in Jensen’s chest, although he immediately feels sick at himself for reacting that way. He can’t seem to help it, though, every bit the slut that the football team players had smirked at him in the hallway last year and sharpied onto his locker. “Come on,” the coach says again, hands rocking encouragingly against Jensen’s ass, and Jensen suddenly realizes what the man wants, his face going hotter with humiliation.

He still does what Coach Jackson is encouraging him to do, pumps his hips back and forth, humping the table and almost crying from shame and lust.

Fingers press harder into Jensen’s ass as the coach takes more liberties, both hands kneading, thumbs skating along the edge of his crack. Jensen starts whimpering, which just encourages the man more. Jensen can feel his thick finger sliding between his cheeks, faintly brushing against the edge of Jared’s hole.

“ _No no no_ ,” he gasps, because he can’t do _this_ , still needs Jared to be his first. But Coach Jackson shushes him, one hand moving to rub Jensen’s naked back.

“As much as I want to sink down into this tight ass, I won’t. Not today. But… if you’ll let me have a taste…”

The coach puts a hand over Jensen’s back, steadying himself, then jumps onto the table, straddling Jensen. The table rocks hard, and for a moment Jensen worries that it’s going to break. The legs, however, are thick and strong, and once the coach gets settled, it stays sturdy.

The back of Jensen’s underwear is pushed down, and Coach Jackson hooks his thumbs underneath the band, exposing Jensen’s ass to the open air. Jensen continues humping into the table, unable to stop.

He almost jumps when he feels Coach Jackson’s cock press against the ridge of his ass, whimpering high and protesting, but the coach shushes him again.

“Just like this,” he reassures Jensen, rocking against his ass, letting his cock ride the crack up and down. “Just want to feel you, sweet boy. Keep moving for me, Jensen. Fuck that table like the pretty slut you are.”

Jensen’s suddenly so close, so fucking close, and he feels so completely and utterly used and filthy, revels in his own degradation.

“You about to come?” Coach asks, voice suddenly strained. “Fuck harder, baby boy, cream against the table, let me hear you.”

Jensen keens louder, thrusts turning uncoordinated, hands clawing at the edge of the table as he grunts into a loud completion, dick spurting wet and sticky inside his briefs.

While Jensen’s hiccuping through the end of it, Coach Jackson’s fingers tighten around the base of Jensen’s ass, thumbs still hooked into Jensen’s underwear as the coach spurts across his ass and back, cock digging hard at the cleft of Jensen’s ass while the coach breathes hard, legs squeezed tight around Jensen’s thighs.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” the man curses, breathing hard, groaning and leaning back. “Fuck, sweetness, I just came harder than I’ve come in my life. You’re so fucking perfect, fucking made for someone to just sink into and fuck you dirty.”

As soon as they catch their breaths, the coach jumps off to get a towel and clean them both up. He kisses Jensen on the mouth, quick, just a hint of tongue, then tiredly smiles and tells Jensen to head on home.

Jensen opens the office door with a quick heave then stops in shock, eyes flying wide open.

“J-jared.”

Jared is standing in the hallway, jaw tight and eyes angry, and Jensen has no doubt that he’d heard everything.

For a moment, Jensen thinks that Jared’s going to storm inside the office, choke the coach out, kill him by any means possible.

But instead, Jared grabs Jensen by the arm, hard enough to bruise, and drags him down the hallway, every step a stomp.

Jensen tries to apologize but Jared shushes him, tells him to shut up, seething and angry until they’re halfway home, until they’re in an alleyway behind a liquor store. Jensen’s confused, but he’s not about to ask any questions, not while Jared’s like this. To the side of the alleyway is an old Honda, parked near the back entrance.

Stooping in front of the big metal trash can, Jared picks up a broken metal pipe and swings it against the car window, shattering it so glass shards fly everywhere,then does the same to all the remaining windows. He beats the side of the car until the frame is all bent-up bruises and torn-open pieces, red and clear glass scattered around the gravel.

Patiently, Jensen waits for Jared to finish, knowing that saying anything or trying to stop him would not end well.

Finally, after the car is not much more than scrap metal, Jared stops and throws the pipe against the wall, chest heaving in exertion. He walks over to Jensen, still panting.

“Jared, I didn’t–” Jensen begins, but Jared puts a hand up, effectively stopping whatever apology Jensen was about to get out. Jensen’s eyes miserably fall to the ground, he doesn’t know what he was thinking, he doesn’t know why he let that go on for as long as it did. But Jared hooks a finger under his chin and tilts Jensen’s head back up, making him look Jared in the eye.

“It’s ok,” he huffs, almost kindly. “You can’t help being a slut.”

Jensen’s pulse quickens, unsure where Jared’s going with this.

“But there are lines, Jensen,” Jared warns, reaching down to grab Jensen’s hand, twisting their fingers together, squeezing painfully. “You know you belong to me.”

Tears spring to Jensen’s eyes, and he wants to ask Jared why, _why_ if he belongs to Jared, why won’t Jared fuck him. But he doesn’t say anything, throat too tightly constricted to get any words out. Instead he just nods because he does know. He belongs to Jared.

Yanking Jensen against him, Jared kisses him rough and hard, biting at Jensen’s lips punishingly, leaving bruises and marks across his neck.

Jensen knows he got off easy.

  ****

**~THEN~ 16, 14**

During Jensen’s sophomore year of high school, he found himself taken in by the student council crowd: straight-A students who were all involved in at least five clubs each, a mixture of cheerleaders and mathletes, drama kids and baseball players, all connected by their high, overachieving standards, and almost all of them involved in student council. Jensen wasn’t really any of those things, but he could fake it well enough to be accepted.

It was Danneel that originally took him in. They had French together and were paired up for a semester-long project. Danneel was smart and confident, and most of their work days were spent alternating between her gently teasing him and completing their project. She was also unaware or unconcerned by all the rumors that had followed Jensen up from middle school.

After teasing Jensen one day about his long bowlegs, Danneel looked at him thoughtfully and asked him if he’d ever consider joining the cheerleading squad. He was slim but strong, and she’d seen him on the day he’d almost been late to school and had to jump the back fence. The cheer team was perpetually short on boys, and one of the guys had to sit out for a few months because of a badly twisted ankle.

“I-I don’t think so,” Jensen stammered back. But Danneel threw him a perfect smile and put a warm hand on his arm.

“Please,” she wheedled. “We could really use another guy. And I’ve seen the way you move in P.E., I have a feeling you’d be a natural. If you really hate it, you never have to come again, but would you consider coming to our next practice?”

It was hard to say ‘no’ to Danneel, not when she’d been one of the closest things to a friend Jensen had had since coming up to high school alone. Hesitantly, he agreed to a trial run.

The rest of the girls cooed over him the first day, accepting him with such enthusiasm that he forgot for a moment how lonely he was without Jared. And he was surprised how much he actually enjoyed dancing and cheering.

The uniform was the typical guy-version of the girls outfits: plain black pants and a blue and silver slim-fitting top with sleeves. Jensen didn’t think it was anything special, but somehow it attracted the attention of the Varsity football players who were practicing on the field the same time the cheerleaders used the track space for their own practice just before a game. The boys jogged past Jensen the first day, heads whipping around to see the new male cheerleader, faces curious and smirky.

On the first water break, the football players stood around the cooler, sipping water and watching Jensen move in formation and cheering alongside his female counterparts.

He flinched at the first cat-call whistle, trying not to lose his concentration as they started yelling taunts at him.

“Fuck, look at the ass on the new girl.”

“Bet those legs would look even better in one of those short skirts.”

“Shame he’s in the middle of all that pussy and probably goes for dick.”

Jensen didn’t know if the coaches didn’t hear or didn’t care. The girls shot the team a few glares and bitched at them between moves, but it didn’t stop until the boys were called back onto the field to start practicing blocks.

Within a week it had turned into a game for the team, trying to get a rise out of Jensen, calling him names, making the dirtiest, lewdest comments when the coach was out of earshot and miming blow jobs at him whenever they walked by.

The hallways became a dangerous place once they figured out Jensen’s schedule. They pinched his ass and sometimes tried to grope his crotch when it was especially crowded during passing periods. He came to his locker more than once to find SLUT written across the front in permanent marker. The janitorial crew tried scrubbing it off, but it was often replaced the same day, different handwriting most of the time. The administration pulled Jensen into their office once to ask if he knew who was doing it, but he just shook his head, refusing to give them up, refusing to even care about pursuing the matter.

The attention made him uncomfortable. It also, however, made him hard. He knew he was a slut, couldn’t help how bad he wanted a dick in him, and with Jared refusing to let things progress beyond blow jobs, Jensen was frustrated and needy all the time.

He’d daydream in class sometimes, thinking about Jared fucking him across his desk or riding him in the teacher’s chair. But he also wondered what it would be like to have the entire football team hold him down and gangbang him in the locker room. He shivered as he thought about how they’d use him, mouth sore after being face-fucked and choked on seventeen different dicks, face covered in come, his own cock hard and purple.

Of course, in his darkest daydreams, Jared always came. He’d shove his way past the players, demanding that everyone back off because that ass was his. Then he’d tear Jensen’s shorts off, pry his cheeks open, and fuck hard and fast while Jensen continued to blow and jerk off every guy that stepped in front of him.

He never told Jared about the harassment, though. He knew Jared well enough to understand that would be a very bad idea.

Some of the players just enjoyed preying on the weak. A few let their hands linger a bit longer, shoved against him in the hallways until he could feel their hard-ons when they walked by. But only one really tried something.

David Whittier.

He was the varsity wide-end receiver and instigated the worst of the harassment. He’d wait around Jensen’s locker at least once a week, just to whisper all the dirty things he wanted to do to Jensen’s mouth and ass.

“I bet you’ve got the pinkest asshole,” David murmured quietly into Jensen’s ear from just over his shoulder. “Do you shove your fingers in it at night, fucking yourself on spit and fingers until it’s shiny and open, wishing you had a dick like mine to shove inside?”

Jensen tried to grab his books quickly and get away, but David blocked him in, waiting until passing period was almost over, until they were the only people in the hallway. He chuckled at Jensen's discomfort, hand under Jensen’s chin while he waited for the last student to disappear around the corner. Then he reached further up to pinch Jensen’s jaw and slipped the finger from his other hand between Jensen’s open mouth, rubbing down the back of Jensen's tongue until Jensen started gagging.

“Yeah,” David said triumphantly, walking away backwards and watching Jensen bent over making coughing noises to the ground. “Bet you’d be so tight. You still a virgin, Ackles? Because I don’t think that ass is gonna last the year.”

By the time Jensen cleared out his windpipe, David was in class and Jensen was late.

_________________

During the last semester of middle school, Jared often ditched classes to visit Jensen. He didn’t do it too often – new academic reputation to uphold, after all – but often enough. He also somehow managed to never get caught.

More often than not, Jared would just meet him for lunch, often after scouting out an empty classroom where Jensen could suck his dick.

It worried Jensen that Jared would somehow find out about the football team (the season was over, but the main group still stuck together), but Jared never came to any of his cheerleading practices. And since Jared usually texted Jensen where to meet him, Jensen didn’t think Jared even knew where his locker was.

Jared came late one day, just after lunch, walking into Jensen’s Environmental Science class with a yellow slip tucked between his fingers. There was a soft smirk on his lips as he handed the paper to the teacher, who had been in the middle of an alternative energy lecture.

Professor Sheppard gave it a cursory look then looked over at Jensen and announced in his low British accent, “You’re being summoned to the front office, Mr. Ackles.”

There was a pleased slant to Jared’s almond-shaped eyes as he turned to look at Jensen, walking over to help Jensen gather up his things so they could leave.

“Hey, professor, I got a riddle for you,” Jared said as they headed towards the exit. Professor Sheppard looked at Jared, eyebrow raised, expectant and waiting.

“What’s the difference between marmalade and jam?”

The man looked thoughtful for a moment, and Jensen could see most of the class looking either confused or uninterested.

“Other than the American penchant for changing the classification of perfectly good words,” Professor Sheppard finally answered after a few seconds, “I do not know. Tell me.”

Chuckling, Jared just tugged Jensen out of the classroom, and Jensen caught sight of Professor Sheppard rolling his eyes at that non-answer just before the door shut.

“Come on,” Jared said softly, grabbing Jensen by the hand and leading him away.

“I’ve got a test–” Jensen started to say, but Jared tugged him hard enough to make Jensen shut up.

“You really think this shit place is going to teach you anything?” Jared snorted. “All they care about is cranking out a factory belt of banker managers and housewives. We’re not staying in this town forever, so fuck your perfect attendance.”

Naturally, Jared had already managed to pick the lock of a dark, empty classroom and pulled Jensen inside. Usually Jared immediately shoved Jensen against the wall, hands and mouth and teeth going everywhere. But he didn’t do that this time. Instead, he gave Jensen another wry little smirk and told him to go sit on the teacher’s desk.

Nervously, Jensen walked over and gingerly propped himself up the side, careful not to disturb the neatly-stacked piles on the teacher’s desk.

“Shove all that shit to the floor,” Jared directed, eyes narrowed. For a second, Jensen thought about carefully setting everything on the floor, but he knew by the way Jared was looking at him what the boy expected. So, taking a deep breath, Jensen put his arm out and swept it across the desk, knocking everything down. Pens, papers, and a coffee mug fell to the ground with a large crash while papers fluttered around, caught in their own cross breeze and weaving back and forth to the ground.

Grinning in approval, Jared slung off his backpack, unzipping the front so he could pull something out that was wrapped in a towel. He walked closer, pencils snapping and papers crunching under his shoes.

“Strip for me.” Jared’s smile was big enough to tease out his dimples, light indentations in his cheek.

A shiver crawled up Jensen’s spine, dick quickly hardening as he started pulling off his own clothes, Jared watching intently.

Jared reached out to run a hand down Jensen’s chest, petting at the skin and tweaking at the nipples. “You’re getting so big,” Jared murmured, frowning for a second. But his lips quirked again after a second, and he leaned in to press his lips down Jensen’s belly, one hand lightly brushing against Jensen’s cock. “Turn around,” he said, voice muffled against Jensen’s hip. “Turn around and spread your ass open.”

A sharp inhale jumped up Jensen’s throat, heart thudding as he wondered if this was how he lost his virginity, if Jared was going to finally stop teasing and pop Jensen’s cherry. Pulse rushing, Jensen quickly turned to do as Jared commanded, toes pointed to the floor as he bent himself across the desk and reached back to hold his cheeks apart.

Jared’s fingers were there immediately, circling and rubbing at Jensen’s hole, softening the clench until he was easily able to slip a finger inside. “Sluttiest hole in the entire town,” Jared said approvingly. “Wants to be stuffed so bad.” He added another finger, nudging in and out, working smoothly until he was able to add a third. Jensen made a soft appreciative sound, hips rocking into the motion, hands clenched around the desk edge above his head.

“You figure out the riddle yet?” Jared asked, voice dark and rough.

Unable to answer, unable to think straight, Jensen shook his head. He could hear his pulse thudding in his throat. He heard Jared laughing softly.

“You can’t marmalade your dick into someone.”

The punchline barely registered, not with everything else going on. The sound of a plastic cap being opened echoed from behind Jensen, and half a second later, he felt something hard pressing against his hole. As soon as it started easing in, Jensen could feel disappoint register that it wasn’t Jared’s dick, although he only had half a second to muse before the aching, stuffed feeling forced out all other thoughts.

“That’s right, baby,” Jared purred, still pushing down. “Got you a toy. I know how bad you want something fucked inside.” Jensen had to adjust his stance a few times, pushed up onto his tiptoes, trying to find the best angle as Jared forced more inside, resting one hand on Jensen’s hip as he screwed it in deeper. When it was almost all in, Jensen moved and immediately gasped as the toy pressed something good inside, making him buck up while trying to keep it angled there.

“Please,” Jensen gasped out, hardly aware of speaking. “Please Jared. Keep going, fuck me, want you inside, want everything.”

Jared’s other hand was still gripped tight around Jensen’s hip, and he scooted in closer, holding on tighter as he started forcing the dildo in faster and harder, slamming Jensen up and down the table with the force.

Jensen was practically crying with how much he liked being filled, thighs widened as far as they could go because he wanted to feel everything. “Yes, yes,” he choked out, mind black and staticy, lotion dripping down his legs. He dick was trapped between his belly and the table, caught between the force and almost hurting from all the friction.

Jensen wasn’t surprised at how much of a slut he was. But he had no idea how much he’d love being used like this, being completely filled, having someone fuck inside and refuse to ease up, drive in so hard and fast that it hurt.

Jensen came hard, spunk squelching underneath his belly while Jared kept rocking him into his own mess until Jensen finally collapsed. He was exhausted and aching, tears tracking down the sides of his face, dick rubbed raw. Jared finally pulled the dildo out with a loud, wet sound and tossed it the side, leaned over Jensen so he could nuzzle into the side of his face, pressing kisses against Jensen’s temple.

“Knew you’d like it,” Jared said, but it was more fondness than triumph. He backed up and gently nudged Jensen off the table. “Need you to do one more thing,” Jared said, looking so intent and hopeful that Jensen just nodded. Jared’s fingers brushed against Jensen’s mouth, stretching the bottom lip out as he softly said, “Lick it up.”

Whimpering, Jensen bent back down, opened his mouth and pushed his tongue through the mess. He swirled his tongue around, feeling deliciously dirty while Jared kept a hand on his arm, thumb rubbing pleased circles around his bicep.

When he finished, Jared pushed Jensen down so he was sitting on the table then kissed the taste of come out of Jensen’s mouth, tongue slipping inside, fingers running up and down Jensen’s bare chest.

There was just enough time for Jensen to blow Jared, kneeling between his thighs while Jared sat in the teacher’s chair and called Jensen a “good slutty boy” and “top cocksucker in the class.”

Jensen found the dildo in the backpack later, tucked inside his environmental science notebook, stuck to the pages, lotion soaked through and ruining a week’s worth of notes. He had to tear out the paper and soak it all under the sink until the pages unstuck into a gloppy mess.

He used it at least once a week, sharped Jared’s name on the side. But it didn’t make him stop thinking about Jared’s dick.

**~NOW~ 18, 15**

Practice is cancelled for a week after the news breaks that Coach Johnson died. The school would have preferred to keep the details quiet, but it’s all over the local media: “Local Baseball Coach Dies in Gym Shower”. Rumors start circulating about the coach dying in the school showers, but those are quickly squelched by anyone who had bothered to read the article. Coach Johnson had been stabbed to death at a public fitness gym, bleeding to death near the drain and left for hours until his wife had called, worried and anxious because he hadn’t yet come home.

A question has been on the tip of Jensen’s tongue all week. His tongue, however, was more often than not busy being wrapped around Jared’s dick, sucking him off more often and in riskier spots than usual. Jared couldn’t seem to sit still that week, cutting classes more than normal, sometimes inviting Jensen along, sometimes not.

Jared grabs Jensen before English one day and has him drive them both downtown, refusing to tell Jensen why until they arrived at the destination.

Jensen’s heart jumps when he parks and realizes they’re in front of the tattoo shop they’d visited before. His only tattoo is still on his arm, although no one else has seen it since he keeps it carefully covered with t-shirt sleeves. He hopes Jared doesn’t pick a place that’s harder to keep hidden this time.

He can see the tattoo artist from before in the back of the shop, cleaning instruments, and he smirks at them when they come in. He leans over to the next station where a co worker is in the middle of a job, nodding towards Jared and Jensen while saying something Jensen can’t hear. The second guy quickly walks over, a dark, hungry look on his face when he quietly leans down to tell the front counter guy something.

“Sure thing, Ty,” the man answers before the man walks back to finish his current job.

When it’s finally their turn, Ty gives Jensen a hungry smirk as Jensen slides into the chair and tells him to take off his shirt.

“What’ll it be?” he asks. Jared hands him a piece of paper and Ty nods thoughtfully. “You mind if I clean up the design?” he asks Jared. “Make it look a little more artistic?”

“I don’t give a shit how you draw it, just as long as the concept is the same,” Jared answers.

A wry grin crosses Ty’s mouth, and he nods a bit. “Tell you what,” he says, leaning in, voice low. “You give me a show like you did to my coworker, and I’ll do this one for free.”

“Got a thing for underage boys?” Jared mocks while Ty shrugs, completely unashamed. Chuckling, Jared glances at Jensen, throwing him a quick wink. “You wanna watch, be my guest. You know where to find us.”

“We got a room in the back,” Ty offers, but Jared shakes his head.

“Nah. Jensen likes getting dirty,” Jared says.

Jensen squirms in the chair, both turned on and mortified. God, he’s such a freak. He doesn’t mind being watched, not really, although part of him is still disgusted with himself. He never minds in the moment the things Jared makes him do, the things Jared says to him, but he’s always horribly ashamed later.

The needle hurts even more, maybe because Jensen’s not drunk this time. He whimpers a little after the first hour, when all his skin starts to throb. Thankfully, Ty takes a break, turning off the needle and telling Jared to look after his boy for a few minutes while he takes a stretch break.

Jared climbs onto Jensen’s lap, kissing his chest and telling Jensen how pretty he looks when he’s in pain. “You got this baby,” Jared whispers, mouth on Jensen’s throat. “Doing so good for me.”

A cough behind Jared makes them both look up to see Ty standing there, flask in hand.

“Thought you might want some liquid courage to get you through the rest,” he says, and after Jared nods, Ty brings it to Jensen’s lips, tipping it forward until the liquid rushes into his mouth. Jensen purses his lips, parting them obscenely because he likes the way Jared and Ty are watching him, eyes tracking the way his lips move and his throat jumps.

Ty keeps pouring until half the flask is empty then takes it back and screws the cap back on. Jared’s thumb brushes Jensen’s mouth, wiping off a wet smear, before he leans up and kisses Jensen hard, their hips rocking against each other.

For a moment, Jensen thinks Jared is going to fuck him right there, but then Jared pushes himself up and let Ty finish the job while he pets Jensen’s arm and tells him how fucking hot he looks sitting there, taking the pain like that.

The design is on Jensen’s forearm this time, so he watches it come together as Ty drives the needle into his skin. The outline is done quickly, long handled object with a smaller round shape next to it. About halfway through, Jensen realizes what it is: a baseball bat and ball.

Ty does a nice job, too, careful stitches on the baseball and perfect shading all around. When he finishes, Jared leans down to make out with Jensen, careful of his bandage while running his hands up and down Jensen’s bare chest.

Before it goes too far, Jared pushes himself out of the chair along with Jensen and nudges him out the door, both of them stumbling into the back alley while Ty quietly follows.

“You like it, huh, having some perv watching you like this?” Jared says while shoving Jensen against the wall and biting up his shoulder. “Fuck baby, you drive me so god damn crazy. What do you want him to watch you do? You want me to shove on you on the ground and eat you out all wet and sloppy? You want him to see how puffy your lips get when you blow my dick? You wanna sit on my face so I can suck you off until you cry?”

It’s difficult to make his brain work while Jared mouths up Jensen’s neck, but Jensen manages to take a deep breath and shake out, “Want you to fuck me.”

Jared chuckles against Jensen’s chin and nips it playfully. “Not happening, baby. Gotta pick door number two.”

It’s disappointing but not surprising, and Jensen sighs. “Want… you to use my mouth.”

Jared pulls back to thumb at Jensen’s mouth. “Alright, Jen. Open up and I’ll shove in until you choke.”

Falling to his knees, Jensen opens his mouth, waiting patiently while Jared undoes his own belt. As soon as his cock is free, Jared grabs it and runs it along Jensen’s mouth, outlining the shape of his lips before slipping it down Jensen’s throat.

Jensen’s experienced enough not to choke, but he knows what Jared wants, what kind of show they’re putting on. He lets his throat constrict a bit more, swallowing tightly until he’s making cut-off, gagging sounds while spit tracks down the side of his mouth. He can see Ty watching out of the corner of his eye, dick out of his pants while he fists it tightly, eyes hard on them both. When Jared’s close, he grabs Jensen’s head and pumps his hips forward in sharp, fast snaps, yanking Jensen’s mouth closer until he can feel Jared’s balls against his chin and Jensen’s choking noises aren’t quite so fake anymore.

“That’s it, baby, take it all, choke it down, my fucking–” Jared’s word cut off as he moans loudly, fingers tight in Jensen’s hair while he shoots down Jensen’s throat, so deep that Jensen can’t even taste his come.

They’re making out slowly against the wall when Ty steps closer and hoarsely asks, “How much to use that pretty mouth?”

Jared pulls back far enough to give Jensen a look, eyebrow crooked up. Jensen gives a tiny shake to his head, eyes wide.

“Sorry man,” Jared tells Ty, fingers underneath Jensen’s shirt as he plays with his nipples. “This bitch isn’t for sale.”

Ty looks like he wants to argue further, but he shuts his mouth tightly instead, probably knowing that if he pushes too hard, he’ll never see them again.

“Come back anytime,” he says instead, and he tucks his softening cock back into his pants just before going inside.

  ****

**~THEN~ 16, 14**

Jared’s dad occasionally attempted to groom his son into the family business. He took him on a few stateside and international trips, usually for a week or two at a time. Jared didn’t really mind being involved in the work, but he hated being away. He’d sneak into Jensen’s house as soon as he got back, stealing a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge and laying himself out on Jensen’s bed to wait. He usually swiped a few matchbooks from whatever place they’d stayed at and he’d sit on Jensen’s bed and light each match one-by-one, dropping the smoldering remnants in the half-drunk soda can just to hear the hiss.

When Jensen got home from school, he could hear the tiny wet matchstick snaps as he walked up the stairs, heart pounding by the time he opened the door because he knew what to expect. The room smelled like sugar and smoke when he opened the door, and Jared would turn to look at Jensen in the doorway, lighting the rest of the matches in one quick flick, flames jumping high above his fingers.

As soon as Jensen crossed the room, Jared would throw the burning matches into the metal wastebasket by the bed, burning up whatever was inside and ignoring the small fire as he encouraged Jensen to settle between his thighs for a slow blow job. The smoke detector in Jensen’s room had been disabled a long time ago, batteries slipped into Jared’s pocket whenever they thought to replace it.

During one of Jared’s trips towards the end of the school year, Jensen decided to take the opportunity to put a stop to his harassment by the football team for good. He’d been feeling guilty over it for a long time, knowing that part of him liked it even if he still hated the worst of his tormentors.

A plan had been in formation for a while, and as soon as Jared was gone (to Rome, so Jensen knew it was a week away minimum), he set it into motion.

He wore a soft, form-fitting tee to school that day, one that made his nipples stand out, along with a pair of skinny jeans that David had seemed to appreciate just a month ago, hands unable to keep themselves off Jensen’s ass.

David sniffed him out before the day was over, following Jensen into the library during lunch and pressing against him into the back of the reference section. This time, Jensen leaned back into David, subtly rocking his hips.

“So… you wanna fuck me,” Jensen said breathlessly, letting his hand trail along David’s arm. “You wanna know how good it would feel to sink into this ass?”

A smirk twitched on David’s mouth, although Jensen could feel a tiny shiver roll up his arm. “You finally offering up that sweet ass?” he asked. “You gonna play a whore for me?”

“Come over and find out,” Jensen replied, reaching between them to run a soft hand down the front of David’s pants. He felt a wave of satisfaction when David’s breath stuttered, his eyes briefly rolled back. Jensen pushed a piece of paper in David’s pocket with his address and phone number written on it. “Seven o'clock, tonight,” Jensen whispered before he walked away.

_______________________

David was right on time. Jensen had been keeping watch and went down to meet David before he even had a chance to knock on the door.

“Come on,” Jensen said, leading David down the side of the Padalecki’s lawn and through the gate. “Neighbors are out of town and I have a key to their pool house.”

“Do this often?” David said, trying to smirk but not quite managing it. He was obviously nervous, which Jensen enjoyed.

Before opening the pool house door, Jensen turned to David, face serious. “I’ll suck you off and let you stick your dick anywhere you want… except in my ass. You try that, and I’ll cut it off.”

“Feral little minx,” David commented wryly. Shrugging, he continued, “If that’s what you want. As long as I get off, I’m good.”

David was every bit as aggressive as Jensen had imagined. He tried not to enjoy it, but something about being used and thrown around always riled up the dirtiest, horniest reactions in him. Although David never touched Jensen’s ass, he did slap him around, shoved his cock deep down Jensen’s throat, and called him every version of ‘slut’ he could think of.

“You like fucking around with boys?” Jensen asked, breathing hard on the bed, belly covered in come. “You ever do this before?”

“Once,” David admitted with a chuckle. “Eighth grade, Ryan Crawley. Traded blow jobs at lunch. There’s just something more satisfying about throwing around a guy, sticking your cock down his throat, better than any girl.”

“I can’t say I know the difference,” Jensen admitted.

“Well, with those lips of yours, it’s not really all that different,” David said with a wink.

He left soon after that, although he rolled over Jensen and made out with him before leaving. He was a pretty good kisser, Jensen had to admit, although he really just wanted David to leave.

David left so cheerfully Jensen almost felt bad about what he was going to do. But it was much better than what Jared would do if he ever found out.

He waited until lunchtime the next day to send a text to David, complete with attachment. Jensen watched him from across the cafeteria and saw the moment David opened the attachment and watched the video clip. As soon as he figured out what it was, he shot Jensen a look of panic mixed with anger and quickly texted back:

_You fucking bitch. You filmed us last night???_

Jensen shrugged and texted back.

_Yeah. You want me to send you the whole video?  
I’ve got a few copies backed up_

_What do you want?_

_Nothing. Just leave me alone._  
_No more shoving me against the lockers._  
_No more harassing me at practice._  
_And get your friends to leave me alone too._

_FINE. But if that video gets out,  
I will fucking kick your ass. You’ll be dead._

_You’d never get the chance.  
But leave me alone, and I’ll keep this to myself._

David glared at Jensen and moved away every time they passed in the hall, but the harassment and name-calling stopped that week. Jensen felt extraordinarily guilty about filming in Jared’s pool house, but he didn’t want to risk his parents finding out. Especially his father.

He wondered later if Jared had managed to find out, if it was the reason Jared fucked girls in the pool house where Jensen could see, if it was maybe even the reason Jared wouldn’t fuck him.

Part of Jensen figures he deserves this torture.

**~NOW~ 18, 16**

After Jensen graduates, not too many things change. In spite of everything that happened with Coach Johnson, Jensen still wants to be be a Sports Therapist. He takes courses at the local community college because he knows he could never leave Jared behind. Through his connections with the coaches and staff, Jensen manages to get a part-time job working with the school PT.

He also continues working for Jeff and walking Bisou.

Jensen loves when Jeff’s out of town. He has the whole house to himself, and he’s taken advantage of it more than once. Jeff has a beautiful house, and Jensen’s in love with his master bathroom, which is gigantic and luxurious. Jeff had once or twice casually mentioned that Jensen was more than welcome to hang out, eat some food, watching TV, hell, take a shower if he wanted.

He peels off his clothes as he walks from the bedroom door to the bathroom, leaving a bread-crumb trail of socks and shirt and underwear. The knobs to the tub are turned to make the water pleasantly hot, and he flicks on the switch for the bubbles and jets, water swirling inside the over-sized tub. There’s barely a sound when Jensen slips inside the just-under-scalding water, a faint burble of water splashing against the rim of the porcelain. His skin instantly brightens, soaks up a heat-induced flush that makes him feel sweaty and warm.

When he hears Bisou barking excitedly downstairs, Jensen figures there’s another squirrel in the backyard or Mrs. Thomas is walking her dalmatian, Lucy, past the house again. It isn’t until he hears the faint creak of the bedroom door being pushed open that he realizes he’s not alone, and he startles, soapy washcloth falling into the water as he whirls towards the opening into the bedroom.

Jeff’s standing in the doorway. Mouth open, stunned into silence. He’s blinking at the naked boy in his bathtub, eyelids fluttering slow and confused. There’s a bottle of beer in his hand and a sheen to his eyes that suggests it’s not his first drink today.

Jensen should be embarrassed - and he is. He can feel heat creep up his neck, temperature fluctuating between the bathwater and his own flushed skin. But this also feels like something he’s been waiting for. A moment to test a theory. Holding Jeff’s gaze, Jensen slowly trails his hand down - down his dripping, smooth chest, down his wet belly, grazing the ginger line of his happy trail. The pulse in Jeff’s pupils when Jensen’s fingertips touch the edge of his prick confirms what Jensen had hoped for, and leans back, trying to give the man a better view as he grinds his soapy cock into his hand.

Jeffrey’s mouth moves, and Jensen thinks that it’s his name whisper-slurring across the bathroom tiles. It’s probably wrong to take advantage of the man this way, brain oversaturated with alcohol, flooded with pleasure-inducing dopamine and slowed down by various receptors being hot-wired by ethanol molecules. Jensen knows he’s the man’s type - if the DVDs he’d found weeks ago in Jeff’s room are any indication. Movies filled with soft, slutty twinks with cock-sucking lips and a daddy complex.

Because he can’t go five minutes without thinking about him, Jared slips into his mind, fishhooks into the part of Jensen’s brain that knows that the kind of life Jeff has could never be in the cards for him. But for one hysterical second, Jensen wonders what it would be like to deserves a life like this. Normal, _safe_ , successful. He wants what Jeff has, wants to be someone Jeff could be with. Jared doesn’t have to know about it. It’s not like Jensen’s proposing to the man or anything.

Shutting off everything except the way Jeff’s looking at him - like Jensen’s some kind of feast or offering, all laid out on an altar just for him - Jensen puts on a lazy, slow smile. He becomes someone else for a moment.

“Come here,” Jensen coaxes, shifting his hips while his thumb draws circles around his own cock.

He wonders if this is how Jared felt with all those girls in his pool house, flashing just enough teeth to let them know they were prey while simultaneously pretending that they weren’t there to get devoured. Jensen knows he’s a different kind of predator; more nectar-luring Venus Fly Trap than flesh-tearing wolf. But the end result will be the same: Jeffrey caught and swallowed whole.

Jeff hesitates in the doorway, wavering even with the still-metabolizing alcohol altering his brain functions. But Jensen’s fairly certain that Jeff’s moral compass is cracking; that it wouldn’t take much to shatter whatever self-control he’s white-knuckling in his fist like it means anything.

Standing up, Jensen can feel rivulets of water running down his thighs and dripping from his fingertips; he smiles when he sees the way Jeff’s staring at all his naked skin. “I’m legal,” he reminds the man, all persuasive and low. It feels like a siren call, sugar and semen promises from a pink-cheeked, virgin boy.

A wry, ironic grin quirks up a corner of Jeff’s mouth, and he scrubs a hand across the scruff on his chin. “Barely,” he mutters back. “Fuck, Jensen, you can’t - ” Sighing, Jeff shakes his head. “Your mother would kill me. Your father would… ” He doesn’t finish his last sentence, both unsure about how much Jensen’s father would care. Hell, the man might even encourage it, if he thought it would benefit his career.

“Not if you don’t tell her,” Jensen argues back stubbornly, although he swallows back what he _should_ tell Jeff. How it’s not Jensen’s mother the man should be worried about, but a dimple-cheeked boy who doesn’t like other people touching his things. If Jensen were a good person, he’d let Jeff walk away right now. Instead, he shivers, only half-exaggerated, and demurely asks, “Could you at least hand me a towel?”

Frowning, Jeff narrows his eyes in justified suspicion before reaching out to yank a bath towel off the rack. He only sways a couple times as he pads over to Jensen, flipping the soft white cotton over his shoulders and tucking him inside. “Minx,” he mutters, although his hands start rubbing the towel against Jensen’s shoulders, helping him dry off against the man’s obvious better judgement. “You’re not fooling me, kid. I know what game you’re playing at.”

Jensen thinks again about Jared, about doing things without regret. About taking risks and getting what you want and not worrying about the consequences. He wants to be like that, to quiet all the doubts and fears pinging through his head all the time.

So he decides to try.

Head ducked down, Jensen reaches out and starts unbuttoning Jeff’s shirt. His fingers don’t shake at all as they push the tiny plastic pieces through the buttonholes, starting from the bottom and working up. When Jeff starts to back away, Jensen grabs the edges of his half-opened shirt. “I know what you like,” Jensen says, urgent and insistent. “Found your videos. I can… I can do that. Whatever you want.”

Jeff is quiet, breathing hard enough that Jensen can smell the alcohol still soaked in his mouth. Then his hands come down and cover Jensen’s. “You don’t need to do anything like that, sweetheart. That’s not what I want.”

It feels like another rejection. But then Jeff tips up Jensen’s chin and leans down to kiss him, arms wrapping behind Jensen as the towel falls to the floor. “You sure about this?” Jeff mumbles between their lips, and Jensen answers by kissing him harder, left thigh hiking up Jeff’s hip until the man takes the hint and lifts Jensen up, hands cupped underneath his ass.

It’s different than Jensen is used to, although just as overwhelming. Where Jared was all hard domination, Jeff _savors_. Mouths at every inch of Jensen’s lips and cheeks and neck. Mumbles endearments and praises that sound so genuine that Jensen can’t handle it, fills Jeff’s mouth with his tongue just to shut him up.

Jeff pulls back to let Jensen hop down, telling Jensen he doesn’t trust himself to walk him to the bedroom safely, not when he’s still a little tipsy. So Jensen helps Jeff to the bedroom. Once there, he flops his naked self back on the bed while Jeff stands at the foot. Face heating up at the way Jeff’s looking down at him, Jensen scoots back and widens his legs, catching his lower lip under his teeth as he waits.

“Fuck,” Jeff says as he kneels down, covering Jensen’s body with his own. “Do you know how many men would kill to touch you like this?”

Jensen shivers and thinks that he knows of at least one.

Jeff takes his time, pulls Jensen apart piece by piece with his fingers and his mouth. Slow kisses that drag like honey until he shoves his head between Jensen’s thighs and wraps his lips around Jensen’s cock. His mouth feels so hot that Jensen gasps and grips his legs tight around Jeff’s head, the soft insides of his legs rubbing against Jeff’s beard, burning friction that just intensifies the feel of Jeff sucking him off.

After a few minutes, Jeff shoves Jensen higher, curling his legs up and licking a stripe lower, right across the pink pucker below. Jensen tries to squirm away, but Jeff holds him tight, makes him stay there and take it until Jensen finally relaxes, his eyes rolling back when he realizes how good it feels.

“Think you can take my fingers, sweetheart?” Jeff asks, sounding so hopeful that Jensen bobs his head and pants out, “Yeah, yeah,” while trying not to jerk and tighten up when Jeff’s finger slips velvet-smooth right into his spit-wet hole. But then Jeff curls himself over Jensen and kisses him, a hard enough distraction that Jensen can mostly ignore the odd sensation of Jeff’s fingers rubbing inside him.

“You gonna fuck me?” Jensen asks, not sure if he’s hopeful or apprehensive. Jeff laughs a little, turning his head so Jensen feels coarse cheeks rubbing against his lips. He likes the gritty feel and rubs his mouth against it a few times while Jeff’s finger crooks deep inside.

“Not tonight, Jensen,” Jeff finally answers. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” His other hand comes up to brush a thumb against Jensen’s lower lip, tugging it down and watching the wet muscle stretch. “But I’d love for you to open up that pretty mouth for me. Can I stick my cock between those pink lips? Will you open up for me?”

“God, yeah,” Jensen groans out, rocking his hips as he gets more used to the finger inside. “Please. Want you to fuck my face.”

Jensen feels so empty when Jeff’s finger pops out, but the heavy feel of Jeff crawling up Jensen’s body distracts him. Especially when Jeff’s thighs bracket his head and his cock presses against Jensen’s lips, purple tip leaking as Jeff slides it around the edge of Jensen’s mouth.

“Open up, baby,” Jeff says gently, and Jensen obliges, swallowing Jeff down deep and humming contentedly at the guttural sounds that rumble up Jeff’s chest. Jeff pushes himself up so he can work his cock in and out while Jensen suppresses his gag reflex, concentrates on taking it - especially when Jeff’s thrusts get harder. By the time Jeff paints Jensen’s face with his come, cock spitting out thick ropes that catch in Jensen’s eyelashes, drip down his cheeks, Jensen’s hips are undulating, his cock in desperate need of attention.

“I gotcha,” Jeff reassures Jensen, rolling off and reaching down to slide his hands around Jensen’s cock. Jensen keens when Jeff starts jacking hard, sobs towards the ceiling as he comes, his cock spurting across his stomach and his hands making fists into the bedcovers.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweetheart,” Jeff soothes, kissing Jensen’s chest and stroking his hands across Jensen’s shoulders. “So pretty like this, all strung out and messy. Fuck. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you look all broken?”

“Yeah,” Jensen shakes out, blinking slow while Jeff chuckles and kisses his lips.

When he catches his breath, Jensen thinks about freaking out. He can feel the tightness in his stomach starting to gather. But before his panic manifests, Jeff is there with a washcloth and warm hands, wiping Jensen off with a tenderness that he may not deserve, but which feels good and soothing none-the-less.

Jeff finishes by wiping Jensen’s face, dipping the washcloth against the groove of Jensen’s eyes, then leaning down to press his lips against Jensen’s forehead. God, Jeff is so sweet and warm. Jensen holds his breath and suddenly realizes what he did.

He only hopes Jared doesn’t find out.

**~THEN~ 17, 14**

Danneel had taken Jensen firmly under her wing the minute she saw him. It was ok with Jensen, it made his last year without Jared that much more bearable, and Danneel was by far the coolest girl he’d ever met. She was pretty and popular enough to be Prom Queen if it had ever been something she wanted, but that had never been her style. She had a darker edge that peeked out sometimes, a way of looking at Jensen sometimes that made him think _predator_ and _warrior queen_.

She got it into her head one that she and Jensen should have a sleepover. Knowing Jared would throw a fit at the idea, Jensen declined until she happened to ask on a weekend Jared was out of town with his dad for business in southern California. Jensen wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to, but he knew Danneel wouldn’t give up easily.

Throughout practice that Friday, Danneel kept looking over at Jensen, contemplative and smirking. It started to make him anxious about her plans for the night. She grabbed him as soon as practice was over, fingers twisted in his as she led him to her car and threw their stuff inside. “You excited for tonight?”

“I… guess so,” he said slowly. “What are we going to do?”

“Just pizza and a movie.” She tossed him a quick grin. “And, you know, whatever we want.”

Jensen gulped back more worry. Most of the other students at school assumed he was gay, although he had no idea why, maybe because he was quiet and didn’t go after anyone, but it kept the girls from flirting too heavily. He really wasn’t sure what Danneel was expecting. But she’s been going out of her way to make him comfortable in their lunch group, at practice, and at school. He owed her a lot, and he admired her more than a little.

Once inside, Danneel called for a pizza delivery then raided her parent’s wine cooler for stuff they wouldn’t miss. “They’ll be out until late,” she said as she set everything up in the livingroom. “We’ll have the place to ourselves until after midnight, and then we can just move upstairs.”

“Okay.” Jensen accepted the chilled wine and sipped it, unable to help making a face. It was actually his first taste of alcohol. Jared wasn’t a huge fan of drinking, maybe because of Jensen’s dad, and honestly, Jensen wasn’t either for the same reason. But he figured a glass or two wouldn't hurt.

Danneel put on some romantic comedy movie starring a half-naked Chris Evans and then insisted on turning the movie into a drinking game. Amongst other rules, she decided one sip every time Chris Evans was missing an item of clothing, one sip every time Anna Faris made a goofy face or spoke in a weird voice, and they’d have to chug down the rest of a glass whenever a Marvel movie star appeared.

They were well on their way to drunk halfway through the movie.

“Okay, okay,” she said through giggles, her cheeks pink and hot. “I have to… I have to ask. Chris Evans is hot enough that most straight guys would consider screwing him. What do you think?”

Jensen put down his third pizza slice to shoot Danneel a bemused look. “About what? You want to know if I think straight guys should fuck Captain America?”

“No. No.” Danneel bumped against his side with her shoulder. “I want to know if _you_ want to fuck him.”

Rolling his eyes, Jensen responded, “Are you asking if I'm gay? Because there’s no way you haven’t heard the rumors.”

“I hear rumors,” she answered with a shrug. “I don’t always believe them. So yeah, I guess I’m asking you.”

Jensen fell silent, trying to think through his muddled wine brain. But he trusted Danneel, and he liked her enough to be honest. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know if… I’m gay because I’ve liked this boy since forever, and it’s just him. Or if I was always going to be gay anyway. Either way, I am.”

“What boy do you like?” she asked, intrigued. “Does he go to school with us?”

“He’s my neighbor.” Jensen blushed a little and added, “He’s… in eighth grade right now.”

“Fucking hell,” Danneel giggled. “Holy fuck. That’s… wow. So does he like you?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen answered, feeling his own stomach drop to admit it. “Most of the time I think so, but sometimes… he gets all weird.”

“Aww,” she put her wine glass down to stroke his face with her hand. “I can’t imagine that anyone would reject you. You’re such a cutie.”

Jensen tried to duck down, but she moved her fingers under his chin, not letting go. She stared at him blearily for a minute, thinking. “So you’re not sure?” she asked after a minute, smiling faintly. “You wanna find out?”

His belly tightened nervously. “What do you mean?”

“You wanna kiss me? Find out if you like it?” she offered.

“I… I don’t think I like you like that,” Jensen answered, cheeks burning.

“That’s okay,” she said, smiling reassuringly. “It’s not about that. It’s about trying things, seeing what you like. Whatever you want. Do you want to try?”

In spite of himself, Jensen liked the way her fingers felt on his face, smooth and practiced. Something about the way she looked at him made him feel like she wasn’t some soft, fragile princess who wanted to melt into his arms. She looked like she wanted to pin him down and eat him alive, and Jensen couldn’t help reacting to that, wanting to submit to power and dominance.

He barely got out a quiet, “ok” before Danneel shoved him into the corner of the couch, mouth over his, hard and intense.

“Do you know what you like?” she asked between their mouths. “Tell me.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” He didn’t always know how to put it into words, he just wanted to do whatever the other person wanted, loved filling some dark need, whatever it was.

“Can I tell you what I think?” she asked, teething at his neck. He nodded slightly, and she continued, “You look like you wanna get fucked. Pushed down and filled up. You want it hard. You want to cry.”

Jensen could feel his blood rush because god, he did. He wanted all of that. “Yes,” he whispered back.

She pulled away for a moment, brushing against his bruised lips with her thumbs. “If you wanted, I could give you that,” she promised, too full of alcohol to hide her eagerness. “I could. I’ve got a toy, I could shove you on the floor and fuck you, Jen. Make you see stars.”

He imagined it for a moment, what it would be like to have Danneel force herself into him, and he knew she’d be something fierce and hard. But he had to shake his head. “Sorry. Just… I just want Jared.”

She was obviously disappointed, but she backed away and accepted it. “It’s ok. I understand. But,” she grinned, flashing perfect teeth and laying her head back on his shoulder, her red hair falling everywhere, “I’m not letting you leave until you let me dress you up in my cheerleading uniform.”


	3. Chapter 3

****

**~NOW~ 18, 16**

Sometime in the middle of night, Jensen’s woken up by a large bang on his window. He’s used to Jared sneaking in at all hours, but this time sounds different, loud and awkward, and Jensen wonders if Jared’s uncharacteristically drunk.

He cracks open his eyes to see Jared stumbling in, less graceful than normal, and padding over to where Jensen is lying in the bed.

“Wake up,” Jared hisses, grabbing Jensen’s face. His fingers are sticky. Jensen immediately sits up and turns on the lamp, gasping when he sees Jared dead-on.

He’s covered in blood. It has to be blood. It’s the only thing that makes sense, dark and wet and clotted in his clothing.

“Who…” Jensen starts shakily. He doesn’t know if he really wants to know, but it’s disconcerting to see Jared like this, and Jensen can’t help asking, “Whose blood is that?”

“Whose beard burn is inside your thighs?” Jared retorts tightly, and Jensen’s stomach drops. Jensen tries to move back when Jared straddles him on the bed, but Jared catches his face again while holding his throat with his other hand. “I’m gonna wash up,” Jared says, thumb and fingers tightening around Jensen’s neck, eyes going hard. “You might want to open yourself up because that’s all the prep you’re getting tonight. Gonna fuck that ass when I get out of the shower.” He leans into Jensen for a few more seconds until Jensen makes a short choking sound then finally lets go and swings his legs off the bed.

As Jared walks out the hall to shower, Jensen hurries to wipe his face off with his sheets then crawls out from under his covers and lies down on top, boxers tossed to the floor and lube bottle in hand.

It hasn’t really hit him yet, what’s happening, what Jared’s done. Instead, he focuses on the stretch and soft burn, fingers pushing inside and he feels like he’s making a graveyard plot inside himself for Jared. Jensen’s body was always made for Jared, even long after the sharpie marks with his name had faded, and Jensen’s heart races as he wonders what it’s going to feel like when Jared buries himself inside. When he hears the squeak of the shower turning off, he suddenly stiffens up, nervous and worried, his hard cock bobbing over his stomach.

Jared walks back in naked and Jensen’s eyes go wide. He knew that Jared had been hitting the weights hard this past year, but he hadn’t really seen the results. Even when they messed around, Jared was usually clothed or had the zipper to his jeans split open while Jensen blew him.

There’s definition everywhere, ridges up Jared’s abs and arched around his hips. Water is dripping from his hair and down his chest, and Jensen wants to lick it all up. But the expression on Jared’s face stops him.

“Did you let him touch you here?” Jared asks coldly and grabs Jensen by the thighs, yanking him forward towards the edge of the bed, hands hooked under Jensen’s knees and tilting his ass up. He anchors Jensen’s feet on his chest and grabs Jensen’s ass, pulling apart his cheeks and poking both index fingers inside. “How far did you let him go?”

Jensen doesn’t know how to respond. He shakes his head, but Jared grips Jensen’s thighs tighter and shakes Jensen hard. “Don’t lie to me.”

“H-his fingers,” Jensen admits shakily. “T-that was it. Maybe h-his mouth.”

“You couldn’t wait?” Jared’s tone is bitter, and he lets go of Jensen’s legs to reach forward, pinching Jensen’s chin tightly between his fingers. “You almost gave it up for some posh asshole, just like that? Were you planning on leaving me for him, Jensen?”

Jensen’s head rocks back and forth, feeling the burn of guilty tears in his eyes. “No. Never. I-I just… I don’t know what you want. I don’t know why you won’t fuck me.”

Jared finally lets go of Jensen’s face, although Jensen’s certain his jaw is going to be bruised by morning. “Alright baby,” Jared said coldly, “Is that what you want? To get fucked like a whore?”

“Yes,” Jensen whispers, unable to help himself.

“I can give you that,” Jared promises, shoving Jensen’s thighs apart. A high gasp grates up Jensen’s throat when Jared pushes inside, stretching Jensen apart from the inside-out, making him feel like he’s going to burst apart from every seam. It aches more than Jensen expected. Jared’s thicker than anything he’s had up his ass before. It’s too much at once, but it’s exactly how Jensen wants it, so deep he’s practically choking on Jared. He whines and jumps when Jared lets go of his ankles to slap at Jensen’s cock, but he likes that too, the tingling edge of pain that makes everything sharper and more intense.

Fat tears stream out the sides of Jensen’s eyes, kicked up by the sharp pain of having his cock slapped around. He knows he’s truly the worst kind of deviant because part of him likes it. He likes being pushed around, especially by Jared, and he wants to be torn apart and used, re-shaped into whatever Jared needs.

Reaching down, Jared pulls Jensen’s asscheeks further apart, watching his own dick push in and out of Jensen’s hole.

“Fucking amazing,” he mutters, and he glances up at Jensen, stormy expression back over his face. “Gonna fuck Jeff out of you.” Jared’s fingers press into the stretch of Jensen’s hole where his cock is already fucking in, and Jensen whines at the extra pressure.

“Too full,” he tries to protest, but Jared pushes harder, slipping the edges of his fingers just inside Jensen’s hole, pressing down into the edges as he cock pistons in and out.

Jensen’s legs flail as he tries to adjust, belly pumping up and down as he tries to breathe into it.

“You can take it,” Jared insists. “You can.” And he leans down to kiss him. Jensen almost sobs into the small kindness, wrapping his arms around the back of Jared’s neck. Against his mouth, Jared whispers, “You said you were mine. You try to leave me, you let anyone else fuck you, and you’ll both be dead.”

“I _am_ yours,” Jensen says, gasping when he feels Jared’s hand snaking between them to rub over his cock. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ever.”

“Promise me,” Jared growls, and he straightens up so he can fuck properly again, hand still jerking off Jensen’s cock.

God, he’s getting close, and he’s pretty sure he’s still crying, just a mess everywhere. “I promise, I promise,” Jensen cries, rocking into Jared’s hand.

“Good.” Jared hooks his hand down to grip the base of Jensen’s cock, fingers creating a ring around it. “You wanted to get fucked like a whore,” Jared reminds him. “Whores don’t get to come.” He fucks in one more time, deep and tight, shuddering as he comes inside. He shakes through it all although his grip doesn’t waver, cutting off all of Jensen’s chances of getting off.

The pressure hurts, choking back inside Jensen’s dick, and he whines pathetically. He doesn’t know if he likes the pain, but he likes how dirty and cheap he feels, a warm body for Jared to use however he liked.

Jared waits until he’s sure that Jensen won’t come before letting go, collapsing on the bed and rolling Jensen onto his chest. Jensen lays his head down, listening to Jared’s rapid heartbeat and feeling his own pulse radiating through the sore heat in his dick. It seems obvious now how much Jared’s grown and filled out, and Jensen wonders how he ever missed the changes.

“You ever think maybe _I_ wasn’t ready?” Jared asks through thick breath. “That you’ve always been older and bigger and I just wanted a chance to catch up?”

“I don’t care about that,” Jensen answers. “I never cared. I just wanted you.”

“But _I do_ ,” Jared says, voice dropping low. “Fuck, Jensen. You know how much I fucking need you. It’s always been you and me. So fuck you. You knew.”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen whispers, meaning it.

Jared seems placated and satisfied, and he nudges Jensen on top, fingering his dirty, come-slick hole. “Sit on my cock, baby,” Jared says softly, and Jensen sinks down, eyes fluttering back as Jared’s cock presses inside.

“You like that?” Jared asks, smirking darkly. Jensen nods, and Jared chuckles. His fingers glide over Jensen’s dick, light and teasing. “How long have you wanted this?”

“L-long time,” Jensen stutters out, reaching down to press his palms to Jensen’s chest.

“ _How_ long?” Jared demands, pulling his hand away from Jensen’s dick. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted my dick, baby.”

Whining, Jensen tries to get some leverage, rocking his hips in quick snaps and figure eights. When he tries to move one hand up to touch his own cock, Jared bats his hand away then laces his fingers inside Jensen’s, gripping tight.

“Tell me,” Jared says patiently.

“Maybe… maybe thirteen.” Jensen keeps making pathetic whines, rocking harder and trying to get any kind of friction. “I dunno.”

“You fucking pervert.” Jared grins. “You know this is all your fault? Wanting me like that, fucking us both up. Admit it, baby. Admit what you did and I’ll let you come.”

“Yes, yes, M’sorry,” Jensen sobs out, not missing a beat, every guilty feeling inside of him cracking wide open. “It’s me. My fault. M’a slut, fucking wanted you so bad. Always.”

“I know you are, baby,” Jared says, grabbing Jensen by the back of the neck and kissing him. “But I love you all fucked up.” He snakes a hand up to jack Jensen’s cock, jerking up and down until Jensen collapses forward, come spilling over Jared’s stomach.

“Beautiful,” Jared states reverently. Jared’s hands slide around Jensen’s hips then cup around his ass, fingers touching where they’re connected. He pumps his hips up, bouncing Jensen up and screwing himself in. He bounces Jensen up twice more - two harsh pumps - then grunts as he fills Jensen with come and collapses back, content.

Jensen’s more insistent this time, wrapping himself tight around Jared. “Don’t pull out, don’t Jared,” he says, repeating it until Jared relaxes and gives in to Jensen’s request, cock softening inside Jensen’s ass. He turns them both on their sides and wraps his arms around Jensen, mouthing at his shoulder in slurred, sex-drunk movements.

When the morning comes, Jensen feels sore and used, and he stretches a little, loving the feeling. Jared wakes soon after that, turning to face Jensen and kissing him right away.

“Burn all the bloody things when I leave,” he says, sliding his nose against Jensen’s. “The sheets, my clothes, your curtains. Will you do that for me, baby?”

“Of course,” Jensen answers, voice shaky because Jared’s hand in sliding over his cock.

“Good.” Jared nudges Jensen on top of himself, groggily whispering things about what a beautiful slut Jensen is, how Jared’s keeping him forever, and all the ways he’s going to fuck him in the future. Jensen lights up with every word, and despite being sore, he lowers himself on top of Jared and slowly fucks himself on Jared’s morning wood.

Before leaving, Jared steals a pair of shorts and Jensen’s favorite hoodie, jumping out the window and scaling down the side of the house as usual.

Almost immediately, Jensen gathers anything that touched blood and throws it all in the backyard fire pit, watching everything burn to ashes and knowing that he’ll always protect Jared no matter what.

__________________

Jared has Jensen meet him at the tattoo shop later that day. Of course Jensen knows what it’s for.

Ty sees them come in, but he’s working with a client, and another guy walks over before Ty can. When the front counter guy gives him their info, he turns an interested smile to them.

“Jared and Jensen, huh? I’m Chris. Come this way and tell me what you want.”

Jared pulls out a piece of paper and explains the concept, grabbing Jensen’s arm and gesturing all the way around it. Chris nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I can do that,” he says. “Same payment as last time?”

“Ye-” Jared starts, just as Ty comes up.

“You stealing my customers?” he asks Chris. His voice is light, but he gives Chris a hard look that makes Jensen worry things are about to escalate.

“Just doing my job,” Chris answer smoothly. “Maybe they won’t mind another audience member?”

They both look to Jared who shakes his head, smirking. “Sorry man, this is a one-ticket show.” Jensen is fairly certain Jared just wants the chaos, neither of them would really mind another person watching. But Jared’s always liked seeing things burn.

Both men look like they’re about to start throwing fists, but the guy from the counter comes by and shoves them both into a back room. Jared looks amused as they all storm off, and he decides to take that moment to run a hand down Jensen’s bare stomach, teasing the edge of his pants.

“How do you feel about having all these men fighting over the chance to see you all sexed up and dirty?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen answers, shaking his head.

“Yes you do,” Jared says, other hand rubbing across the front of Jensen’s crotch. “I know you, baby. You like people to see how dirty and perverted you are. You gonna tell me you never thought about this? Everyone wanting you?”

“I used to, um, think about...” he can’t finish, can’t believe he even started admitting this, and his cheeks burn. But of course Jared can’t let it go.

“What did you think about?” Jared asks, fingers slipping underneath waist of Jensen’s jeans.

“Just. Being used. Like having the whole football team use me.” Jensen closes his eyes, hoping he’s not saying anything stupid.

“You wanna get gang-banged?” Jared sounds more amused than angry.

“Not anymore. And never… I always wanted it to be you. I always wanted… you.”

Jared grins, the kind that only Jensen gets to see, and crawls on top of Jensen, kissing him hard and breathlessly asking, “Think I can fuck you before they get back?”

Jensen doesn’t have a chance to answer because Chris and the front counter guy return just then. The guy from the front frowns at them.

“Not in the shop,” he warns, and gives Chris a look too.

Ty stays on the other side of the shop, occasionally throwing Chris pissed off glances. But he doesn’t try to start anything after that.

Jared moves so Chris can get started, although he keeps running his hands across Jensen’s body, brushing his crotch a few times until Chris decides he needs to strap down Jensen’s arm so he doesn’t accidentally hurt him or mess up the design.

Jared takes that as an invitation to push things further, slipping a hand underneath Jensen’s jeans to rub him off until Jensen’s a needy mess. He keeps Jensen on the edge for a long time, long enough that it just hurts, waiting until they’re halfway through to finally let Jensen come, just to start the whole process again during the second half.

“Damn,” Chris says, and despite being mostly out of it, Jensen notices how worked up the tattoo artist is as well. He hopes it doesn’t mess the design up too much.

When Chris finishes the last part, none of them can wait, and Jared drags Jensen outside, Chris just a step behind them, splitting open the crotch of his pants the second they get outside.

Jensen’s on his knees before Jared even tells him, fumbling off Jared’s belt and diving right in, slipping Jared’s cock straight down his throat, hands idly rubbing the base, scratching into Jared’s pubic hair.

“God! Jensen!” Jared manages to choke out before thunking his head back into the brick. It’s one of the quickest blow jobs Jensen has, barely ten seconds of bobbing his head fast and rolling Jared’s balls with his fingers when Jared grabs Jensen’s head and crams himself in tight, groaning while salty come splashes in Jensen’s mouth. Jensen holds back from swallowing it all, instead pushes out with his tongue so it drips out the sides of his mouth, running down his neck and chest so Jensen’s a fucked-out mess, just like Jared loves best.

“Fucking hell,” Jensen hears Chris whisper. He’s sure the guy’s got his spent cock in his hands, but Jensen doesn’t bother to look. His eyes stay on Jared while Jared reaches down and uses the sleeves of his (Jensen’s) hoodie wipes the tracks of come on Jensen’s face before crashing their mouths together.

Chris still has to bandage up Jensen’s tattoo before they leave, and Jensen looks at it for the first time. Around the middle of his forearm is a dog collar with a little tag hanging off the front clip that reads “J” in fancy script. There’s a leash attached to it as well, and it winds around the rest of Jensen’s arm, the hand strap ending just below his shoulder.

A small, sharp pang of guilt pierces Jensen’s chest. Jeff was a good guy, and Jensen had tempted him too far, caught him in a weak moment. It was Jensen’s fault, and he knows this, but when Jared smiles at him, all dimples and hazel eyes, Jensen forget about everything else.

  ****

**~THEN~ 17, 14**

Jared’s dad used him. But Jared didn’t seem to mind, maybe even enjoyed learning how to manage his dad’s work. He told Jensen what happened on every trip, detailing the world-wide operations that his dad was connected in, how everything was precarious and uncertain, but there were so many people set-up between the drugs and his father that he doubted he’d ever get caught.

Mr. Padalecki walked in on them once when Jensen was between Jared’s thighs, cock in his mouth and fingers tugging on Jared’s balls.

“Jared, do you know - oh. Sorry,” the man had said, sounding surprised and shutting the door again. Jared looked at the closed door thoughtfully, and Jensen pulled off for a moment to look at him.

“Guess he’s more open minded than I thought,” Jared commented, sliding a hand across Jensen's cheek and guiding his mouth back down.

Mr. Padalecki pulled Jensen aside later, asking Jensen into his study so they could talk.

“So you and Jared, huh?” He didn’t seem bothered, and when Jensen nodded, the man continued, “It seems so obvious now, I don’t know how I missed it.”

Again, Jensen kept quiet, not sure what to say, but thankfully Mr. Padalecki didn’t need any answers yet.

“I’m going to venture a guess that you already know what kind of family business we run here. So I am going to warn you that if you’re going to continue to be involved with my son, then you will be affected by it in some form or another. Is this something you can handle?”

“Yes… yessir,” Jensen answered, having to clear this throat.

“Good.” The man gave Jensen a curious look. “So what is this for you? Experimenting? Or are you expecting to be in this for the long haul?”

“It’s the real thing,” Jensen replied, feeling awkward. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mr. Padalecki’s mouth twitched in a small smile. “I know I owe a lot to you for the way you handle my son. He’s ruthless and stubborn, but he likes you. I suppose we’re all just lucky that you are just as attached to my son as he is to you. He’s not controllable, but he might be manageable.”

Jensen nodded, still uncomfortable and hoping the conversation would end soon.

“Is there anything you need?” Mr. Padalecki gave Jensen a hard, concerned look. “If there is, tell me. That is not a request. You’re under my protection. I expect you to also warn me if Jared is in any trouble he can’t get out of. Do you understand?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Thank you, Jensen. You may go.”

  ****

**~NOW~ 19, 16**

Hot water bubbles around Jensen as Jared presses him against the side of the jacuzzi, kissing up his neck and rubbing wet fingers against Jensen’s bare nipples.

Jared loves water. It makes him cuddly, mellow, and horney. He’s told Jensen more than once that he wished they lived near the ocean. It’s at least a lucky thing he has both a swimming pool and jacuzzi on his property.

“Wanna mark you up,” Jared slurs into Jensen’s skin.

Jensen shivers. “With what? Ink? Come?”

“Both.” Jared chuckles. “Always both.” Jensen expected Jared to fuck him at least once in the hot tub, but instead he jumps out, grabbing Jensen’s hand to haul him out too. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

Jared reaches into the cart next to the jacuzzi to grab a towel, flicking it open to wrap around Jensen and rub the water off his skin.

“To show everyone that you’re mine.”

Jared leads them to the garage where he grabs one of his daddy’s expensive cards and takes them out on the road. Jensen fluctuates between excitement and anxiety. He’d do anything Jared asked, always, but he worries that someday Jared’s going to ask him to do something that would make the world separate them.

They start an honest-to-God fist fight in the middle of the tattoo shop the minute they step inside. Ty and Chris shove each other into chairs and walls. Another tattoo artist attempts to intervene but ends up joining in on the fight when an errant punch lands on his cheek.

The front counter guy glares at the whole scene, including Jared and Jensen. He tries to get them to leave, but Jared shakes his head, watching the scene unfold like it’s some kind of goddamn TV show.

Both Ty and Chris are sent home, and their first guy is called into work. He doesn’t look surprised at the story, and after assessing for moment, he makes Jared and Jensen pay full price at the counter beforehand.

“That’s what carrying around a fucking pin-up face like that gets you,” he grumbles, although his tone had no heat.

“I want a field goal, right here,” Jared says, pointing to a spot on the outside of Jared’s forearm. “Simplistic, clean lines.”

“Can do boss,” the man says with an ironic smile.

_____________________________

Jensen is skittish for about a week, contemplating the meaning of his tattoo, wondering who it’s connected to. He wonders if Jared found out about his friendship with the football coach. Coach Omundson had caught a peek at Jensen’s bite marks and bruises one day when Jensen was quickly changing shirts in the faculty lounge. It had only taken a second, and Jensen had thought he was alone, but the coach had walked out of the restroom to see Jared’s latest handiwork purpling across Jensen’s chest.

Of course, it wasn’t anything that Jensen hadn’t screamed and begged for two nights before.

“Damn,” Coach Omundson had said, whistling in awe. “Those are some nasty marks. What happened?”

“Oh uh…” Jensen had had to think fast and managed to come up with, “College intramural rugby team. I tend to bruise easily. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks pretty bad,” Tim had answered.

They’d been friends ever since Jensen had started working at the school, and Coach Omundson (along with almost all the other coaches) had expressed an interest in Jensen being their assistant coach. Jensen had turned all of them down, wanting to be available for Jared whenever he wanted.

Although Coach Omundson never brought it up again, Jensen could see him eyeing him carefully, tracking whenever some of Jared’s bites and bruises were a little too close to his shirt collar. Jensen’s tried to be careful around the man.

The only problem was that Coach Omundson has still been showing up to work. So Jensen thinks the man is safe. For now.

He wants to ask Jared who the tattoo is for, but they’ve never talked about it before, not outright.

Just when the surface of Jensen’s tattoo is starting to heal and lose the angry redness, Jared texts Jensen after school.

_Hey baby_ , Jared’s text reads.  
_Can’t meet after school.  
Wanna meet up later though._

_Where?_

_Lakeview Hotel. Room 206._  
_6:00pm._  
_Don’t knock, just come inside._

_Ok._

_And I need you to do me a favor._

_What is it?_

_Whatever you find in that room,  
I need you to go along with it._

_What do you mean?_

_Not gonna let you get hurt baby._  
_But I need you to let whoever is in that room_  
_think you’re there for them._  
_Do whatever they want._  
_Can you do that for me?_

_I... don’t know._

_Can you try? Just for me?_

Jensen hesitates. He knows Jared’s a dangerous person. He knows Jared might not be quite right, not according to society rules, certainly not by the law. But honestly, Jensen doesn’t care. As long as Jared is safe, as long as Jared is with him, he doesn’t care.

_Ok._

Jensen shows up at the hotel room exactly on time, shuffling in front of the door in a sweatshirt and jeans, hesitant to go inside. He knows Jared promised to keep him safe, and he believes that. But he also knows that whatever – whoever – is inside that room, he probably won’t like.

As instructed, he doesn’t knock but walks right in. There’s someone sitting on the bed, and it takes a few steps closer until Jensen recognizes the person, but when he does, he stops dead and stares.

“David,” he breathes, and it all suddenly makes sense. The tattoo on his arm – the football field goal – is for David. And he doesn’t know how or when, but he’s certain that Jared’s seen the video.

“Jensen.” David’s grin is a little wavery, like he’s nervous, but he slides off the bed to meet Jensen in the middle of the floor. “You came. I was worried this was a joke but you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Jensen tries to smile, hopes he succeeds, and responds, “I’m here… for you.”

“So you’ve been thinking about me all these years?” David asks, grin turning more confident as he steps closer. “I knew you always wanted my dick.” He grabs Jensen’s hand and slides it down so it’s cupping David’s crotch where Jensen can feel the heat pool there, the start of an erection growing. “Knew you’d still be a slut.”

David shoves Jensen to the floor and splits open his pants, yanking Jensen’s face forward until his mouth is around David’s cock. It’s hard, just like last time, David calling Jensen names and trying to choke him around his dick until he’s hard and leaking.

Throwing Jensen on the bed, David tells him to strip and get on all fours while he gets his own clothes off. Jensen starts to get nervous, wondering just how far this is supposed to go, but he does as David asks, jumping when the man yanks his legs further apart and starts fingering Jensen’s ass open.

Jensen can feel the lube being pushed into his ass, and he whimpers quietly, hoping this will all be over soon. He stopped fantasizing about gang bangs and fucking anyone else the minute he finally got Jared’s dick inside.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be so tight around my cock,” David says, flipping Jensen onto his back and lining himself up. Jensen can feel the head of David’s cock pressing against his ass when David suddenly makes a wet, choking sound and Jensen starts blinking against the feel of something dripping across his face. He looks up to see a spray of red arcing out from David’s throat, his eyes wide and hands trying to wrap around his own neck and stop the bleeding.

It’s too late.

David falls forward and Jensen screams and rolls off the bed, trying to get away. He’s stopped from going further by someone gathering him up in their arms and leaning against the frame of the bed. Their hand goes around Jensen’s mouth to stop any further noises from coming out, and he realizes that he started sobbing and he’s trying to gasp for air, forgetting how to breathe for a moment before his brain kicks the information back in and he starts inhaling and exhaling through his nose.

“Shh shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s ok, calm down.”

Jensen recognizes the voice as Jared’s and suddenly feels safer, knowing that it’s Jared who’s rocking him in his lap. It takes a few minutes for Jensen to stop shaking and sobbing, Jared making soothing sounds and rubbing Jensen’s naked back until he calms down a little.

“You just… he’s... dead?” Jensen asks, and he refuses to look behind him, refuses to recognize what’s on the bed.

“He’s never gonna touch you again,” Jared promises, moving his hands so he can brush Jensen’s tears out of his eyes and kiss his cheeks.

Still rocking Jensen in his arms, Jared pulls out a cellphone to make a call. Jensen only half-listens, still in shock, vaguely hearing Jared give someone their room number along with some instructions and asking for a car.

“Gotta clean you up really quickly,” Jared says gently after he hangs up. “I’ll do it more thoroughly at home. Just gonna sponge you off, okay? I brought you some extra clothes, too.”

Carefully, Jared leads Jensen to the bathroom sink and uses a towel to wipe him down. Jensen avoids looking at himself in the mirror, doesn’t want to see David’s blood all over himself, and closes his eyes until Jared’s done cleaning them both up and has dressed them both in new clothes.

Jared’s cellphone goes off a few minutes later, and after looking at the message, Jared tells Jensen their ride is here and they’ve gotta go out the back door.

There’s a dark SUV waiting for them at the curb, and Jensen lets Jared lead him around. He closes his eyes and leans against Jared the whole ride home, just wanting to be away and safe.

“We’re here, baby,” Jared says what seems just a few minutes later, shaking Jensen awake and guiding him out of the car. They’re at Jared’s house.

Once inside, Jared peels Jensen’s clothes off again and showers him just like he promised, soaping him up and washing him down. He kisses Jensen everywhere, muttering quiet apologies, explaining that he _had to_ do it, but he’s _so sorry, baby, so sorry_.

“Lean forward against the wall,” Jared requests. Jensen pushes his palms to the wet tile walls, ass out, and closes his eyes as Jared pries his cheeks apart and eats him out. When his fingers slip inside, Jensen makes a whining noise and pushes up on his tippy toes. He loves feeling full, loves the safety of having Jared inside.

“Fucking love all the red places inside you,” Jared says, getting to his feet so he can kiss the back of Jensen’s neck, his fingers still screwing inside Jensen’s ass, other hand sliding around Jensen’s hip and grabbing his cock. “Such a pretty whore for me. Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen. Just for me. You make me fucking insane, make me crazy. I want you to come all over my hand.”

Jensen’s hips start fucking back and forth, pushing inside Jensen’s fingers from behind and fucking into his fist in front. “Deeper,” Jensen begs, trying to get Jared’s fingers in just the right spot, trying to angle better.

“Of course, baby,” Jared whispers. “Deep as you want.” He slants his fingers deeper, crooking his fingertips until he finally pushes against the gland that makes Jensen buck up and gasp. Jared continues to hit the same spot, licking and biting at Jensen’s back while Jensen fucks himself to orgasm, sobbing as he comes right into Jared’s hand.

Jensen doesn’t even have to be asked, he pulls Jared’s hand up and starts kitten-licking his own come off of Jared’s hand, tonguing between Jared’s fingers, licking up every drop until Jared carries him out of the shower and drops him on the bed.

Jared doesn’t say another word as he fucks Jensen from behind. He just growls and gasps as he drives himself deep inside, hands clawing over Jensen’s shoulder while he slams inside. It doesn’t take long for Jared to come, wet and hard inside Jensen who loves every minute. When Jared pulls out, he replaces his cock with his fingers, sliding his digits around in the mess of come and lube in Jensen’s ass, pleased with his handiwork.

Before Jared can pull those out too, Jensen quickly begs, “Keep ‘em in me, please. M’sorry. I’m sorry, I jus’ wanna be full. I wanna feel you. Feel so good. Please Jared.”

“Not going anywhere,” Jared reassures him. “Gonna stay inside you forever.”

  ****

**~NOW~ 19, 16**

Jared’s skin always smells faintly of smoke. Jensen smells it best when he’s pressed against Jared, cheek resting on his shoulder.

He’s watching Jared do math homework, leaning against him and trying not to get in the way while Jared scratches out trigonometry formulas.

“Honestly… I don’t think I can do this for two more years,” Jared says thoughtfully, pencil paused above an equation. “I think I’m done. With high school. With this town.”

He frowns at the paper then pulls the lighter out of his pocket, flicking it open and setting the flame underneath the corner of a page. It catches after a second and spreads fast, taking anything in reach with it.

The end table is metal and glass, but the flames fly hot for a minute, scorching the glass as they burn. While the notebook and answer sheet blaze to ash, Jared turns Jensen so he’s holding him against his chest. He tugs at Jensens’ t-shirt until Jensen lifts his arms up so Jared can pull it all the way off, tossing it on top of the fire. It smothers the flame, successfully putting it out, although Jensen doubts that was even Jared’s intention.

All of Jensen’s tattoos are on display, and Jared’s fingers trace across the design.

“You like these?” Jared asks, leaning down to drag his mouth and teeth across them.

“I…” Jensen hadn’t ever really thought about it. He pauses, watching Jared mouth up his arm, and all he can feel was happiness that Jared values him, wants him, has marked Jensen up as _his_. “Yeah,” he finally replies, and Jared nuzzles into his shoulder, faced turned up to flash a pleased smile at Jensen.

“Good. I’ve gotta go on a job with my dad. It’s gonna take a few weeks. Think you can handle yourself on your own?”

“M’not an infant,” Jensen scoffs to which Jared chuckles, laughing vibrating across Jensen’s shoulders.

“‘Course not. Although my dad’s gonna have someone watching your house while we’re gone like he always does.”

Jensen frowns in surprise, sliding his fingers through Jared’s hair. “He… does?”

“Yeah.” Jared smirks. “I think he likes you.”

________________________

Cellphone reception isn’t always the greatest where Jared is and his dad often makes Jared shut his phone off during work, so Jensen’s not surprised when he doesn’t hear from him. He’s sitting in his room, plucking aimless on his guitar, when Jared finally texts him for the first time in three weeks.

_What are you doing?_

Putting his guitar aside, Jensen moves to sit on his bed, cellphone in hand.

_Nothing. Messing around my guitar._

_You know anything besides the Iron Man riff yet?_

_Shut up._  
_It’s pretty hard to learn an instrument when_  
_my boyfriend can’t keep his dick out of my ass._

He can practically see Jared staring at his own cellphone, brow furrowing in thought and thumbs on the edge of the screen. The long pause makes Jensen nervous, and he tries not to get too antsy, tries not to already regret typing that out.

_Boyfriend?_  
_Damn, I think I forgot to get you an official promise ring._  
_You wanna wear my letterman jacket?_

_Nah I’ve got my own ;-)_

There’s a longer pause. Jensen stares his phone, watching the three dots flashing across his screen. Finally, seven minutes later:

_You touch yourself when I’m gone, baby?_

Jensen immediately bites his lip, heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach because it doesn’t take much for him to get worked up with Jared.

_Sometimes._

_Touch yourself right now.  
Stuff something slutty in that hole for me._

Jensen whines softly, even though no one can hear him. He fumbles through his nightstand, groping blindly around the drawer until he finds his dildo, then slides his fingers across everything again until he feels the shape of the lube bottle.

As soon as he’s got a finger in his own ass, he hears the ping of another text message. He lays down the toy so he can bring the cellphone up to his face, other fingers still twisting inside his ass.

_You doing it?  
You working yourself wet and open?_

It’s difficult to do one-handed, but Jensen manages to text back:

_Yes_

A second later, the phone buzzes from a call, Jared’s name lit up on the screen. Jensen pushes the green answer button.

“Lemme hear you,” Jared voice demands from the other side. “Put the phone next to you on the bed, let me hear everything. Fuck. Come on, baby, know you love it. Love being filled so deep inside. How many fingers now?”

“Two,” Jensen gasps out, dropping the phone next to his face.

“Put in another one.”

Spreading his legs as wide as possible, Jensen pushes a third finger inside, huffing at the stretch.

“Tell me what you really want,” Jared says softly.

Jensen doesn’t even hesitate. “You,” he groans out. “Want you inside. Want your fucking dick – uh! – all shoved up in my ass…”

Footstep thuds up the stairs alert Jensen to his intruders just seconds before his bedroom door slams open. He chokes back a startled scream before registering that it’s Jared standing inside his room.

He crosses the room in seconds, knee shoving between Jensen thighs and hand brushes across Jensen’s belly.

“Got a surprise for you,” Jared promises, shoving two fingers inside Jensen’s mouth and petting at his tongue. Jensen runs his tongue inside the digits and presses his lips closed, sucking Jared’s fingers in a way he knows makes him instantly hard. As soon as Jared’s fingers pop out of his mouth, Jensen blearily notices a new design along the edges: matchsticks etched into the sides of Jared’s middle and index fingers.

“Yeah.” Jared smiles, rubbing his wet fingers together. “That’s just the start. But first, gotta fuck you, baby. Been dry for almost a month.”

Without warning, Jared pushes Jensen’s thighs apart and shoves himself inside Jensen’s worked-open hole. Grabbing the sides of the bed, Jensen just lets Jared use him, his body shoved up and down the bed while Jared thrusts inside.

“Been dreaming about you for weeks,” Jared mutters between them. “Missed your perfect ass, driving me fucking crazy not being with you, never gonna find anyone like you.”

Jensen tightens his legs around Jared’s hips and nods along. He knows nobody else would understand how he and Jared need each other. But he’s right where he wants to be, he knows how dark Jared can get and he doesn’t care, he loves every twisted part of his boy. Jared’s perfect, always has been, and Jensen would do anything for him.

Jensen comes first, vision blurred as his stares at the ceiling, muscles going limp while Jared finishes a few more thrusts, chest pressed tight against Jensen’s when his movements stutter and he comes deep inside Jensen’s ass.

“Love you,” Jensen gasps out when he feels Jared’s come leaking out of him, flushing immediately. But then Jared nuzzles into his neck, sweaty cheeks sliding against Jensen’s own sweaty skin, and he can feel the smile on the younger boy’s face.

“I know,” Jared says between deep breaths. “I know. I love you, Jensen. Drives me crazy, makes me stupid how much. Did something for you while I was gone. Look, baby.”

Breath still thick, Jared pushes himself up and pulls his shirt off, revealing a freshly healed tattoo sleeve.

“What….” Jensen’s forehead furrows as he studies the design, recognizing pieces here and there.

“S’you and me,” Jared says softly, turning his arm to give Jensen a better look. There’s a baseball bat along the ridge of his forearm a well as a basketball around his elbow. Chain and ropes criss-cross up and down his arm with dandelions and sticks poking between the links. There’s also fire-scorched stuffed animals and locks with keys patched everywhere and a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses. Intermixed in it all is Jensen’s name in different script in several places, and something tightens in Jensen’s chest at that.

He climbs into Jared’s lap, thighs spread wide, and drags his mouth and hands all over Jared’s chest and arm. “Fuck. Yes. Always gonna be you and me. Never leaving. Never letting you go.”

Jared fucks Jensen two more times that night, coming deep inside Jensen each time until he’s sloppy and wet.

The last time, he makes Jensen crouch down tight on his knees while he punches his dick in deep, thighs pressing against Jensen’s sides while Jared’s arm reaches across Jensen’s chest. Jensen feels completely enveloped, tucked and lost underneath Jared.

“Gonna breed you,” Jared growls in his ear, lost in insatiable lust. “Knock you up like a prom queen, pump you so full of come that you’ll be leaking me out of your pores for a month. You want that, baby?”

“Y-yeah!” Jensen whines back, trying to pump his hips back into Jared, but Jared is holding him so tight, all he can do was take it. “God, want _it_ , want _you_.” He dissolves into incoherent noises at that, so stimulated that he has no idea where he is anymore, lost inside his head, whimpering happily as Jared holds him tighter.

Jared comes with his teeth fastened on Jensen’s throat, hips snapped tight into Jensen’s ass while Jensen’s filled to overflowing, come trickling down his thighs and out of his own spent dick. They’re both too exhausted to even mind the wet spot, Jensen sleepily tucking himself inside Jared’s warm arms while they collapse into unconsciousness.

****

**~NOW~ 16, 19**

Jensen always tangles himself inside Jared in his sleep. Legs sprawled everywhere, nose nuzzled into Jared’s neck, fingers gripped onto whatever part of Jared is the closest, heart beating steadily against Jared’s torso. It’s one of Jared’s favorite pleasures in life, waking up next to his beautiful, clingy boy.

It takes a few minutes for Jared to extract himself and carefully slip out of bed, padding away from his well-fucked, sleeping boyfriend and going downstairs.

It’s early. Through the window, he can see the horizon starting to pink up, but Jared’s feeling restless. He’s halfway down the stairs when he can smell the pungent, cedar aroma of tobacco smoke, and he knows what to expect when he turns into the living room.

Mr. Ackles is sitting in a recliner, cigar tucked between his fingers, glass of whiskey on the table next to him. He glances over at Jared when he walks in, mouth set in a straight, disinterested line.

They stare at each other for a few minutes until Mr. Ackles flicks the ash off his cigar and, voice low and emotionless, asks, “You fucking my son?”

The edges of Jared’s mouth quirk in amusement. “You just figure that out?”

Mr. Ackles makes a humorless snort and takes a sip of his whiskey, shaking his head. “I knew my son would grow up to be a dick-sucking whore. I’m just surprised you stuck around this long. He can’t be that good a fuck, not if he’s anything like his mother.”

Heat creeps around the edges of Jared’s vision, adrenaline choking out his arteries and surging inside his ribcage to pinch at his heart. He’s never liked the man, has saved him for last because he wanted to make sure he could take care of Jensen first. As horrible a father as Mr. Ackles is, his pre-nup and will ensure that his wife and child can’t survive without him.

“You know nothing about your son.”

His tone must have caught Mr. Ackles’ attention because the man gives him a hard look, eyes searching across Jared’s features. “Jensen’s never been worth knowing about.”

When Jared takes a step towards the man, Mr. Ackles must recognize something in Jared’s eyes because he grabs his whiskey glass and hurls it at Jared’s head. Jared manages to duck in time and grabs Mr. Ackles by the back of his arms, pulling him out of the chair and shoving him hard across the room. There’s a loud crack as Mr. Ackles’ head hits the side of the oak TV stand, and the man grunts in pain, hand pressing against the side of his temple as he finds his footing.

“I always knew you were a psychotic son of a bitch,” Mr. Ackles sneers, blood starting to ooze from between his fingers.

“Evil knows evil,” Jared smirks back. “The difference is, I can appreciate something pure and perfect like your son.”

Not waiting for a response, Jared rushes the bastard, grappling with him as they knock against furniture and walls. Mr. Ackles isn’t weak, but he’s not quite as strong as Jared either, not after all those years spent bulking up, hitting the gym for this exact reason, wanting to be big enough to protect Jensen.

He’s not surprised when Jensen appears while he’s got his father on the floor, both his hands around his throat. They’d been loud, and the living room is a mess of broken wood and overturned chairs, everything in chaos.

Jensen’s eyes grow big, and he steps closer. Jared hasn’t loosened his grip around Mr. Ackles’ neck, although the man’s eyes have snapped over to his son, desperate as he comes to the end of whatever air is left inside his lungs. But Jensen ignores him, face expressionless as he leans down to hold out Jared’s buck knife that he must have taken out of Jared’s jeans before coming downstairs.

Jared feels a surge of pride, knowing that everything he’s done has led to this moment. That Jensen’s choosing Jared over everything else in his life, that he’s trusting him. Quickly, Jared grabs the knife by the handle and plunges it into Mr. Ackles’s chest, twisting and pushing down until the body stops twitching. Once he’s sure the man is dead, Jared pulls the knife back out, wipes the blood on his shirt, and clips it back in its case. It was a present from Jensen, and he’d never give it up.

“So… he’s dead,” Jensen whispers, tone just on the edge of shock.

“Yes, baby,” Jared says, voice dropping into a soothing tone because he needs Jensen to move fast. He’s got plans. Gently, he cups Jensen’s face in his hands, waiting patiently until Jensen blinks and looks him in the eyes. “Need you to do something, quickly. Go upstairs, grab the duffel bag from under your bed and fill it with essentials. Clothing, passport. Find your dad’s wallet, if you can, grab that too. Get dressed in comfortable clothes and meet me back here in three minutes. Can you do that, baby?”

“I…” Jensen stares into Jared’s eyes, steadying himself, and nods. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Jared smiles and kisses Jensen quickly before ushering him upstairs. This plan has been in the back of Jared’s mind for years as he’s tried to become everything Jensen needed, tried to figure out what kind of life Jensen deserved. He thought for a while that Jensen just wanted to be normal, but he’s come to realize that Jensen’s not suited for it anymore than Jared is. They’re going to carve out their own kind of life and leave this one behind.

By the time Jensen’s downstairs with his dufflebag, Jared has poured propane all across the living room, soaking the carpet around the body of Jensen’s father, and has opened the cap off a jug of canola oil and shaken it across the front room.

They both stand outside the front door, Jensen’s duffle bag slung across his shoulder, staring inside for a moment.

“Ready to start a new life?” Jared asks, reaching out to grab Jensen’s hand.

“As long as you’re coming too,” Jensen immediately answers. He squeezes Jared’s fingers then drops his hand so he can reach into his pocket. From inside his hoodie, Jensen pulls out one of the matchbooks Jared left on Jensen’s dresser. He flips the cover open and strikes all the matches at once before holding it out to Jared. The flames dance in Jensen’s trusting eyes.

Jared wants to make Jensen swallow the matches one-by-one then kiss his ashy lips until both their mouths are hot and buzzing. He’s so far gone for Jensen and it scares him sometimes how everything in his life has revolved around this one boy. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jared throws the lit matchbook into the middle of the room where it immediately catches fire, the flames following the trail of oil across the room, licking across carpet and swallowing up the body lying in front of the couch.

“Let’s go,” Jared says as they turn to walk down the walkway.

“Where?” Jensen asks quietly, following just behind Jared.

“My house. I’ve got one last thing to do before we go.”

Jared leads them to his garage where he grabs every combustible product he can find from the shelves. Shoving a bottle of motor oil into Jensen’s hands, he instructs Jensen to pour it all over the front living room while Jared gets the rest of the house.

From his room Jared grabs his always-ready panic bag then pours gasoline through the second floor, making sure to really soak the carpet just in front of his dad’s office.

It takes them all of five minutes to finish, and Jared meets Jensen at the front door.

“Is your dad home?” Jensen asks quietly, pulling out another book of matches.

“Yeah.” A dark smile plays over Jared’s lips. “He’s in his study, locked in, probably video chatting with Brazil.”

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jared answers firmly. “Bastard killed my mom. He thinks I don’t know, but one of his guys let it drop while I was in Belize. She was trying to leave him. He’s a fucking piece of shit, deserves to die just as much as your dad.”

Jensen looks nervous, but Jared knows he’ll calm down once they’re out of town and this is all behind them. Jared reaches out to run a hand through Jensen’s hair, trying to calm him, before plucking the matchbook out of Jensen’s hand and striking them on fire.

“Want to do the honors?”

As soon as Jensen tosses the lighter far into the livingroom, Jared presses him against the side of the door, mouth over his, body rolling. He loves proof of how much Jensen trusts him, how much he loves Jared. How fucked up they both are.

“You smell like smoke,” Jared says approvingly, licking up Jensen’s neck, and he knows it’s stupid as fuck, but he’s so turned on right now. “Fuck, you’re gonna be mine forever, gonna leave this place behind, gonna show you the ocean, baby, anything you want.”

“Gotta get in the car first to do all that,” Jensen gasps out, and Jared can feel Jensen’s rabbit-speed heartbeat through his shirt, body flushing warm as Jared brushes his fingers into all of Jensen’s sensitive places. The heat behind him is only getting stronger, and with the flames rising from his own house, he’s sure it’s just a matter of seconds before the fire truck sirens start screaming down the road.

“Yeah,” Jared agrees, finally pushing himself off Jensen, grabbing his hand and leading them back to the garage.

They pass a couple police cars with flashing lights on their way out of the neighborhood and Jared grins as they drive away.

Jared doesn’t stop until they’re past the Texas border. He’s got brochures in the glove compartment box of every city around the world near a body of water, determined to show Jensen the ocean. He pushes the stack into Jensen’s lap and Jensen looks at all the colorful pictures, pushing them around and seeing glimpses of Lake Tahoe, Huntington Beach, the Azure Coast, Byron Bay, and more.

Smiling, Jared slips his heart-shaped sunglasses on Jensen’s face, traces his finger around Jensen’s lips, and says:

“Pick one.”


	4. Epilogue

They’re homeless and aimless. But Jared likes it that way.

Jensen gets fucked in a different motel every night, almost too satiated to appreciate all the ocean sunsets that Jared insists on dragging him to every night. Jared has enough cash stashed away to afford lavish hotels – he’d been skimming from various jobs for years – but for the most part they stay at modest inns, as close to the ocean as they can find. 

Jensen doesn’t know exactly how much money they’ve got, but he can tell by the way Jared’s not tracking all their expenses that it’s enough for a while.

After hearing how blue the ocean is off Tulum beach, Jared takes them to Mexico where they stay a while, sunbathing and snorkeling until Jensen’s skin pinks up and new freckles scatter across his shoulders and cheeks.

They’re sitting on beach chairs in the early evening, watching the sun dip below the waves, when a tall, strikingly beautiful woman steps in front of their view. Her black sundress is caught in the breeze, flapping behind her, red hair twisted on top of her head.

“Are you Mr. Jensen Ackles?” she asks politely. Jared looks instantly murderous, jaw tight like he’s thinking about snapping the woman’s neck, although she doesn’t seem fazed. 

Jensen doesn’t answer, but the woman just gives him a short smile and says, “This is for you,” as she hands him an envelope.

He hesitates for a moment, but he figures he won’t know what’s going on until he opens the envelope. So Jensen breaks the seal and pulls out the paper inside. It’s a will. It takes a few minutes for Jensen to read it, but once he does, his brain goes dizzy as he realizes the implications. It says that Jensen gets everything: his father’s savings, the house, his life insurance. He wonders when his father had changed it, because the last time he’d seen it, his father had left everything to his alma mater, Rice University (probably expecting them to name a building after him). But – if this notarized copy is to be believed – Jensen is a rich man.

Confused, Jensen looks up, but Jared’s already jumped out of his chair and is staring the woman down.

“What are you doing here, Alaina,” Jared spits out.

Cocking an eyebrow up, Alaina cooly replies, “Helping you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“We’re doing fine,” Jared growls out. “We don’t need your help.”

“You are for now,” the woman concedes. “Maybe even for a year or two. But what do you expect to happen when you run out of money? You’re a semester shy of a high school diploma and your boy wants to go to college. Don’t you think he deserves that?”

 

“I can take care of myself. And I can take care of Jensen.”

Alaina’s eyes cut sideways to look at Jensen. “Look, your father has a soft spot for Jensen. He likes him, you know. And he loves you. Even if you did try to kill him.”

Jared scowls. “So the bastard is alive.”

“I think you already knew that.”

Jared’s jaw tenses, but he takes a breath and Jensen can see his shoulders slump. “Yeah. I guess I did. So what does he want?”

“Nothing.” 

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing right now,” Alaina amends. “He’s willing to give you time and space to do some personal stuff, take a break for a while. See more of the world without business in the way, take your boy with you.”

“Ok. And then in a few years, what does he want?”

“Your dad wants you to work with him. He wants to offer you his empire when he retires. And Jared, that’s nothing to sneeze at. You know all of us would kill to have what you have. So if you don’t want his help, fine, burn the will, burn –” she pulls out another envelope and holds it up, “– this high school diploma. You can try to walk away if you want. Maybe he’ll even let you, who knows. But we both know what’s in that bloody, crazy gourd of yours. You’re fucked up, kid. And this is the kind of life that can afford you the money and freedom to be fucked up. So it’s your choice.” 

Alaina hands Jared the envelope and walks away, a black blur that Jensen has to squint to make out in the twilight. 

Suddenly, Jared is on top of him, rolling himself hard, biting at Jensen’s neck.

“I can take care of you,” Jared says, voice low. “We don’t need them. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know baby.” Jensen slides his hand up Jared’s neck, twisting his fingers in his hair. He tugs a little until Jared gets the hint and crashes their mouths together. Jensen lets himself get lost in it for a while, loving how worked up Jared gets. Although he can tell Jared’s more anxious and worried than he’s letting on. Twisting himself, Jensen manages to rearrange them until he’s sitting on Jared’s lap. “I trust you,” Jensen reassures him while Jared’s hands knead into his ass. “You never have to worry about that. You don’t ever have to prove anything to me, you’re already _it_ for me.”

Jared looks pensive for a moment then leans up, hands on the small of Jensen’s back as he licks into Jensen’s mouth. “You’re such a sap,” he says between their lips, chuckling. “But ok. Then trust me.” He plucks Jensen’s envelope from where it’s creased against the chair and tosses both into the sand. His hands slides back down, pushing Jensen’s shorts down. Jensen knows where this is going, and he reaches down to unlace Jared’s swim trunks and pull him out, stroking a few times to get him really hard.

As soon as Jared’s inside, Jensen’s eyes flutter back and his back arches. It’s always so good, nothing has ever changed that.

“I’m thinking we need a new ocean tomorrow,” Jared says while his fingers stroke across Jensen’s back. Jensen nods, too full and content to speak. “Where do you want to go?”

It takes a few minutes for Jensen to catch his breath, and he reaches out to steady his hands on Jared’s shoulders while Jared waits for an answer.

“Anywhere,” he finally says, managing a smile. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please let me know! This is my first 20k+ work ♥


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